


Where Our Horizons Meet

by Erica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Brief Mention of Suicide, Case Fic, Corporal Punishment, Death, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:45:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erica/pseuds/Erica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson was certainly not what the world around him expected him to be.He was strong,independent,an army doctor and captain to boot.These traits in themselves may not seem all too surprising,but paired with the fact that he was an Omega?Well,then they seemed impossible.Of course,he wanted to settle down one day with a mate,possibly even a child or two.He wanted that stability but he would not weaver his rights to be his own person to have that.</p><p>Sherlock on the other hand? He was exactly what the world expected him to be(in some ways):He was arrogant, selfish,dominant. Not opposed to inserting himself where he believed he stood in a hierarchy.He was the stereotypical Alpha on paper.The difference, however,lay in the fact that the hierarchy Sherlock mostly stuck to was one based more upon your intelligence rather than your dynamic.Despite this,Sherlock still belonged to London's more prestigious packs headed by Gregory Lestrade.</p><p>So, what happens when the Doctor and the Detective meet at the same time the pack finds themselves in a dangerous situation and dynamics begin to play a far more important role?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Please note that none of these characters are my own unfortunately, expect for Kevin. Kevin is mine. They belong to Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC, of which I am neither.
> 
> The mistakes, typos and whatever else you may find fault in, they are in fact the belongs of a crazed and very tiered person. Or, my own, if you prefer.
> 
> Anyhow, that's all! Enjoy! :) x

 “Lieutenant I’d almost swear to God you were injuring yourself on purpose just to visit me at the rate you are moving at! This has to be the what? The sixth time I’ve seen you about these stitches?” John asked, peeling the bloodied dressing of the soldier’s shoulder to fix the split skin beneath.

“Ha! Doc, don’t flatter yourself too much! You’re a lovely Omega and all, but I've got my own one waiting for me back home. Plus, I prefer mine with a little less dick to be honest.” The Lieutenant laughed before wincing as John applied the antiseptic cream.

“Oi! Watch that mouth of yours. I may be an Omega but don’t forget I’m also the one in charge of giving you painkillers and Lord knows that, as much as you Alpha’s like to harp on about your strength and unfeeling natures, give you something as simple as a headache without a neurofen and you’ll moan about it ‘til kingdom come!” John laughed pulling the thread tight before snipping the end.

“There you go Kev! All done and dusted.”

Kevin shrugged his shirt back up onto his shoulders and turned to face the Doctor. “Thanks Doc. I’ll try to keep them in tact this time. Swear!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that promise a thousand times from your lips Kev, yet…here you sit!” John chuckled again scribbling down his signature to the order slip granting permission for Kevin to pick up some painkillers from the Medic Tent afterwards.

“I mean it this time Captain. Plus, if my Mary asks me to let her see how it’s healing and I have to tell her I split it again in another drunken ‘dominance’ battle with Leon, I don’t think there is enough water between us and England to stop her from killing me!”

They both laughed at that one.

Kevin’s fiancée and soon-to-be mate Mary was a tiny and unassuming thing.

Standing at only 5’ 3” she barely reached the Lieutenants shoulder. In public she seemed every bit the textbook Omega. She was sweeter than sugar, with wide eyes that told the world that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Submissive in such a way you’d swear the word had been made from just watching her. Polite and respectful and the last Omega any one would expect to get into trouble.

The only thing that might tip you off to her _actual_ nature might be the way in which she had her hair; blonde strands cuts sort and often slicked in a way that framed her beautiful face, it was miles from the usual long hair found on an Omega. She was fiery and feisty with a wicked sharp sense of humour which bubbled with an undercurrent of intelligence that rivaled that of the stereotypes that plagued the civilian world in regards to Omegas.

John says the ‘civilian world’ and not just _thee_ world because luckily for him, soldiers in the British Army don’t give two shits as to what your dynamic is. All they care about is whether or not you are competent enough to have their lives in your hands and make sure you get them home without the added addition of a body bag and casket; And John was nothing if not that.

He had worked damn hard against his biology’s natural inclination toward softer shapes and curves in order to build both his muscle mass and strength- though he would never be a stocky as his Alpha counterparts; he was certainly nothing to sniff at. He was blessed with a keen knack for academics which meant he found his way through medical school with as much ease as anyone can muster in medical school and had proven to be an extremely skilled doctor and surgeon. Though, the latter of the two had been far more difficult to achieve considering it was an Alpha dominated field full of twats and old family names which still held the belief that an Omega should stop in nursing, midwifery or gynaecology if they felt the need to work at all!

Lord knows John had heard enough, “Mr. Watson…Are you sure you want to do surgery? It can be very stressful and gruesome. Would you not be more inclined to take a nursing course? Or perhaps gynaecology would be more suiting, hmm?”.

Or his favourite, “Nursing would be easier on an Omega’s more… baser instincts, no? I mean it can be a bit of a hazard, Omegas as hospital doctors and surgeons. What if a strong alpha were to come in and start yelling about? You could get frightened or feel compelled to submit! No, nursing would be better. That way you could let yourself just submit to the alpha doctors. Much safer.”

The councillor who had told him that had left the meeting with a broken nose and John with a formal warning.

He still wondered how idiots like that were trusted in guiding students on their career paths!

Plus, being a nurse seemed to John to be a far more stressful job! For one, they had to deal with twats like that and secondly when they did they were expected to follow along like an obedient drone. If that’s all nurses needed to be able to do then they wouldn’t need a degree in medicine for that! There had been plenty of times when John had been in surgery or on rounds where a nurses input had been imperative in the saving of a person’s life. John may have the title ‘Doctor’ in front of his name but he was still a person- Just as fallible as the one next to him. Sometimes you need a person to question your decisions or point something out that you are too close to see. That is what nurses did for John as a doctor. They kept him focused and grounded and he trusted no one more than them.

That’s probably why they enjoyed working with him. Why even now, here in the army he would here of some nurses refusing to work with any doctor other than him. Though impossible to facilitate, John still shone when he heard about it.

John was pulled from his thoughts by the landing of Kevin’s hand on his shoulder.

“Speaking of Mary, I should probably head over to the Com. Tent and see about getting a Skype call through. Wish me luck Captain. I’d have better chances running through a red zone with my gun out.”

John gave a little laugh and a farewell before stretching his back and yawning. Kevin had been his last patient before his shifted ended and despite there being paper work left to do John couldn’t help but feel as though the need for sleep was undoubtedly more important. After all he had been forced to pull a double after Dr. Kramer had caught a stomach bug.

  So, with that, he began to clean and pack up his medical supplies before leaving the Medical Tent and heading off toward a good night’s sleep! Or at least, that had been the plan…

 

**A/N: Okay, so that was the first chapter and I know it seems a bit slow to start but a little bit of world context is always needed in an AU such as this and things start to kick off in the next chapter with John’s return to London. That should be up in the next day or two J**

**I hope you enjoyed and feedback is always appreciated! Erica x**

 


	2. Chapter 2

John awoke in the pitch black to the feeling of hands grabbing at his shoulders.

“What the-?!” John started and began to twist and turn his body in such a way to loosen the persons grip on him, but  it only seemed to tighten with his protests.

“Calm down Captain! Quiet!” 

“Kevin?”  John stilled in his movements, he’s fear being replaced with confusion and his sleep fogged mind cleared somewhat, “Kevin, what on earth-?”

“Captain, I’m going to need you to get dressed really quickly and grab your firearm. Colonel Johnson has called us in.”

“Colonel Johnson?” Okay, John was now utterly bewildered as to what was happening. Who the fuck was Corporal Johns- OH! OH SHIT! John sprung up from his cot and took to pulling on his uniform with as much haste as he could muster at what had to be 3 a.m.

“Do you know what for?” John asked tucking his trouser legs into his boots before lacing them up and tying them tightly.

“There was a rebel attack on a local village about 5 miles North from here- 16 civilians dead, mostly omegas and children. The rebels thought that the locals were hiding a government official who they had captured and escaped at around 0100.”

“Where they?”

“No.”

John stopped in his tracks, his jacket slung hallway on. The news was terrible yes but, it didn’t really sound like something that called for Colonel Johnson’s intervention. Kevin must have noticed John’s confusion and quickly moved to elaborate.

“One of our patrols hadn’t been too far out when the attack happened and were given permission to try and remove as many of the omegas and children out as possible before more were lost. 3 of the women shared with an officer that it wasn’t their village that had held and helped the government official but a village to the _South_. As far as the intel we’ve been able to gather the rebels haven’t caught wind of that yet. So I’m assuming we’re the extraction force. We’ll know for sure if you get your arse moving though Cap. Age must be getting to you!”

“Oi! Watch it Lieutenant or I’ll let Mary know about the stitches!” and Kevin laughed.

“C’mon,” John said, holstering his gun and walking toward the exit.

“Right gentlemen, I’m sure you’ve heard bits and pieces of why you might have been called together.” Colonel Johnson began, “At approximately 0215, there was an attack on the local village five miles North of our camp. Rebels believed that the government official,  Dr.Howard Sheeran, who was over here on business regarding a classified investigation on behalf of the British Government, was taking shelter there. Some of our boys were on patrol nearby and went in to help. The locals shared that he hadn’t been aided in the village to the North, but to the one located South!

Now, we’ve had a reliable source in the Southern village confirm this and from what we can observe the Rebels have yet to catch wind of his true location, but it is only a matter of time. So we have to act fast and he higher ups have agreed that it is a job best achieved by men trained in excellence so much so that it seems as though it is our fine selves who created the concept.” the Colonel joked, breaking the mounting tension in the small quarter where fifteen of Her Majesty’s most highly skilled and desired men sat.

They all knew that for them to be assembled and Colonel Johnson to be heading it all – this Dr. Sheeran was a very valuable man indeed. And valued men? They tended to come at the cost of other men’s lives.

The Colonel had continued to talk for another few moments, splitting the fifteen men into their usual three smaller groups of five.

John headed his, alongside Kevin who would work as his second in case (though maybe he should say when) he was needed as medic. The final three men to make up their small squad were Ben ‘Fender’ Williams, Antonio “Stark” Iron and Kevin “Fluffy” Smith.

Ben, or Fender as he was usually called, was a Beta. Slight in build, much like John’s own, he was easily the best shot to be seen in the army- even if he did say so himself half of the time. He had saved John’s ass on more than one occasion and always ensured to cover the Doctor when he tended to the injured and fallen in the field. It’s where the nickname Fender had come from. Kev had joked that Ben was the platoon’s one and only true defender and had taken to calling him such for about 3 minutes before he complained about the length of it and shortening it to Fender instead.   He was a young enough kid if John was to be honest with himself. John was almost certain that they had only just celebrated his 23rd birthday last month but damn if the kid wasn’t talented in a way John and everybody else could only dream of.

Antonio on the other hand, was three years John’s senior and an Omega as well. His nickname was also a side effect of coming in contact with Kev…in fact- every nickname came as a result of Kev. Before Kev, people had just taken to calling him Tony for short but once Kev heard Tony and Iron in the same name? All he could think was “Iron Man” but he said that was too pretentious, especially since Antonio was their expert in hand-to-hand combat. So instead Kev landed on Stark, which is apparently the last name of the superhero! Although John, and Antonio couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t have just used the superhero’s first name which was still _Tony_ but once Kev picked a nickname it was futile to argue. Something ‘Fluffy’ knew all too well.

Now, Kevin Smith had just been unfortunate to have the same name as Kevin which meant that a nickname was necessary. He also had to be unfortunate enough to be at the mercy of a man with the power to choose said nickname, who had a love for juxtaposition. Now, Kevin Smith, was about 6’ 9” built like a brick shit- house and oozed dominance. He was also his team’s linguistic technician who somehow could speak the majority of the world’s languages fluently and all others to a usable extent. He was also ironically enough, someone who used the minimal amount of vocal exchange as was possible when it came to his everyday exchanges. So, somehow all of these facts made Kev think of “Fluffy” and once he saw the reaction of people during an introduction to Fluffy he found it too funny to let it go, so it stuck.

“Alright men,” Johnston started as the truck slowed to a complete stop, “this is where we go from on foot. Is everyone patched in on channel 6? Yes? Good.” He fixed in his own ear piece, watching as the others followed suit.

“Good Luck gentlemen,” he said opening the hatch and allowing them out, “and God bless.”

It didn’t take very long for the village to come into sight, perhaps 20 minutes or so from their drop off point, which would act as their pick up point also. They were still approximately 100 yards away from the village which meant they were about to enter radio silence but not before Johnson spoke for a final time.

“Radio silence in five gentlemen. Don’t forget your orders soldiers. Do not initiate in gunfire. We are not looking for casualties; these are innocent men, women and children who have proven to be caring in their hiding of the Dr. Sheeran. We do not owe them a death toll. Once we get him it is back to the pick-up point by 0530 that gives us an hour to execute this. Hopefully we get him on the plane waiting back at camp and up in the air in time for the word to get back to the Rebels that he is gone before any other innocents are caught in the cross hairs again on this one. Over and out.” And then, silence.

By now the village was just within grasp and the groups splintered in order to perform their given tasks. The village seemed quite enough and John saw as a tall Afghani man moved around the corner of one of the houses along the outskirts.

 John recognised him instantly from the photographs back at camp it was their informant who was meant to lead John’s team to the house where Dr.Sheeran was being kept.

“You’re up Fluffy” John said, looking over his shoulder at the man, who nodded and walked in front in order to greet the man. The spoke for a minute before Fluffy turned to translate with brows furrowed in concern.

“He said the house is just three down from here, across the road. Sheeran doesn’t seem to be holding up okay, something seems to wrong with his foot.”

“Can he walk?” John questioned, this had been one of the main reasons John’s team had been tasked with the actual getting of the doctor.

 Fluffy turned to ask the man who spoke back quickly and hushed:“Yes. But not fast and he’s not sure for how long.”

The man began to talk again, words just creating noise to John’s ears but Fluffy nodded and replied in a soothing tone that seemed to calm the Omega man’s frazzled nerves. John wondered what it was that had the man so on edge, but he supposed it was quite a dangerous thing for someone to be doing out here.

As if reading his mind Fluffy spoke, “He’s anxious to get the Doctor out. The village is getting worried that the Rebels will catch wind of his shelter here and there is talk of handing him over if they arrive. They have a lot of unbound Omegas around and they don’t need the trouble. A lot of them are afraid the Rebels arrival will result in them being taken. Not an irrational fear.”

No it was not, John shuddered to think. It was on an almost daily basis that stories were recounted of the Rebels brutality and unforgiving acts on Omegas in the villages they entered. It was even advised that the Omega soldiers should remain in camp or with groups containing Alpha’s when given leave in the area. The army may not discriminate against your dynamic but it didn’t mean that the rest of the world did not. Even at home Omegas were still not afforded all the respect they deserved. They just discriminated more discreetly and silently- but discriminated none the less.

“No it’s not.” John said, “Tell him to lead the way.”

Fluffy spoke in foreign tongue once more before the man inclined his head slightly in a nod and began to walk wearily. John indicated for his men to follow and Fluffy remained up front with the man chatting to him in low tones in an attempt, which seemed to be working, to keep the man calm so as not to draw attention.

The man halted outside the door to a house and moved to knock but Fluffy stopped him with a light hand on his shoulder.  The man looked up with a puzzled look gracing his features and Fluffy replied with a gentle, “Not yet. My Captain needs to tell me first” to which the man responded by lowering his hand and dropping his gaze with a nod. Fluffy spoke again, just one word John recognised as ‘Thank You’.

John made a series of hand gestures to his team and noted that another of the teams had taken to securing the parameters around the house. With that he gave a nod to Fluffy who squeezed softly on the man’s shoulder to get him to look back up before giving him permission to knock with a reassuring smile. The man returned a small smile of his own before knocking lightly.

A voice called out softly from behind the wood and the man replied which caused the door to open slightly. There was a woman standing there, an alpha by the looks of it, who spoke quickly and shortly with the man who ducked his head slightly and looked up through his lashes when responding.

John looked at Fluffy to see if they should be concerned, after all she didn’t seem pleased with their arrival but Fluffy shook his head in the negative and bit back what looked like it might have been a laugh. John would have to ask him about that later.

“Em,” John pulled his gaze back to the man who looked slightly sheepish now, “You go in?” he asked in broken English and John nodded and the men began to move through the door.

The house was small with only three rooms. Fender and Stark clear the first two quickly before moving onto the third where the Doctor sat in a chair in the corner. He looked up upon their entrance and John watched as relief pulled at his features.

“Dr. Sheeran. I’m Dr.Watson and we’re here to get you home.” John said with a smile moving toward the doctor and dropping to one knee to better assess his right foot which seemed to be swollen and bruised.

“Thank Goodness for that Dr.Watson! I believe I may have broken a few of my toes and strained my ankle when I began running. It’s treacherous terrain I must say Doctor, though I’m sure you know this. I’m afraid I can’t put too much pressure on it. You wouldn’t happen to have a crutch in that bag of yours would you?” Sheeran rambled. He was a portly enough man, late fifties perhaps and looked every bit the typical English lecturer in any given university. Even if the tweed, three piece suit was in somewhat of a questionable state following his ordeal.

“I believe you may be right” John replied with a chuckle, “but I’m afraid I do not and our pick-up point is some 20 minutes away on foot. But luckily for you I have some support straps and a few fetching young lads to help you along the way.”

“I think that might just do Dr.Watson! Work away!” John had to say he liked the man a great deal. Despite his current predicament of runaway hostage only now returning to the arms of his government the man was extremely upbeat. It was refreshing.

John set to work on strapping up the Doctors foot and attempting to ensure he would be in the least amount of pain while still being able to move. When he finished he stood and reached out a hand to help the Doctor up.

“Ugh!” he huffed out as he stood and John couldn’t help bit give a little laugh. “Oh it is terrible to be getting old and fat Dr. Watson. I wouldn’t recommend it!”

They managed to get back out of the house with as much ease as they entered, Fluffy taking a second to thank the man and woman for their help before coming over to where John and Kevin stood supporting Sheeran.

“Here Fluffy take over” John said before moving back into the forefront. “Let’s move along boys” he ordered and began to head back out of the village the way they entered. He knew the other teams would then follow seeing them with the target.

It didn’t take very long for them to clear the 100 yard stretch from the village to where the radio silence was lifted and Johnson’s voice flooded their ear pieces once more.

“Well gentlemen, we don’t seem to be doing too badly. Well done on the extraction. It seems we’ve been blessed with how quiet it’s been- I’d almost say it was easy enough that a run of the mill task force could have executed it!” He laughed a bit at his own joke and John shook his head with a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Right, we’re approximately 15 minutes from our collection point boys. How’s the Doctor holding up Watson?”

John turned his head over his shoulder to look back at the man currently wedged between Kev and Fluffy. He was huffing out breaths from puffed beet coloured cheeks and his face shone with a dim glow of sweat in the soft light. He looked tiered from limping and the extra weight he carried but nothing a cup of tea and a good nights sleep wouldn’t cure (excluding the weight factor of course).

“He’s holding up Sir. No immediate problems. Over.”

“Very well Captain! I expect another rep in 10. Over and out.” And the line went silent again.

“It was a real easy one, wasn’t Cap?” Fender asked pulling up beside John, gun gripped tightly in his hands and shoulders squared, ready to go at any moment.

“That it was…” John couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the whole thing. Of course it was great that they had managed to get the man without so much as firing a single round! But, something like this was such a rare occurrence that John wasn’t quite sure how to process it. Something just felt…off.

“It doesn’t seem right Doc. Not that I’m not happy, mind you!” Fender said quickly and John turned his head to look at him,

“I just-“ and John saw the same skepticism in Fender that he felt in himself.

“Yeah, I know…It was so quiet it makes me…” John searched for the right word, though he didn't reach it before his radio erupted with noise.

* * *

 

John was still amazed at how quickly the world around you can change. One minute both he and Fender had been complaining about how quiet it had all been and now his ears rang with the resonating sounds of gunfire.

“Fluffy! Kevin!” John yelled turning around and running he few steps to where they held Sheeran upright.

“Sir?” Kevin responded.

“I’m going to need you both to keep going forward- we need to get him out of here and the Rebels as far away from the village as we can. We cannot get pushed back. Clearly someone in the village tipped them off. We don’t need more enemy fire and innocents killed if people from there decide to join in the fight”.

_“MEDIC!! Johnson down. Repeat Johnson is down.”_

“FENDER!” John called and the young lad ran toward him, “You are to cover them. Get them to the collection point as soon as you can”.

“Sir.” Was all he got before the men began to move off in the direction of the location.

Just then another call for John sounded across the station. “I’m going to need your location” John replied noting the co-ordinates before ordering for available soldiers to join Fender in getting Sheeran across safely.

By the time he got to the location about five minutes East from where John stood,  Johnson was looking worse for wear but not fatal. He had a gunshot wound in his upper right thigh and a nasty gash alongside his left that would require stitching when he got him back.

John quickly pulled out his medical kit again, pouring water and antibacterial solution over the wounds, John tried to clean them out the best he could before bandaging it all. “Colonel, I’m going to have to brace your right leg. I have a fear that the bullet hit bone, it seems pretty deep and I don’t need any shards moving. It’s going to hurt.”

“I’ll take the pain over dying Captain.”

“Wise choice.” John stated before pulling the brace from his bag and inflating it around the injury. He stood the Colonel up and slung his arm across his shoulders, allowing the Colonel to apply his weight to John.

Johnson called out for his men to being their retreat and John listened as shots sounded off around them as they began to move. The Colonel’s weight, paired with all his gear and the fact there were no more people to spare to aid in carrying him meant that by the time John reached his first location again he was feeling his muscles protest. I was a good thing his pain threshold was extreme and he was able to push through the twinges and aches. It was one of the few moments where John felt blessed by his biology, as Omega bodies were built to be able to process pain easier for childbirth.

“How you holding up Colonel?”

Johnson grunted in response but otherwise focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. They were close to the collection point now and John could see the truck in the distance. He watched as two soldiers ran out to meet him in order to grab the Colonel from John.

The bodies around him were numerous and he couldn't help but scan among them in search for any uniforms though he didn't see any… until he did.

“Doc, Fender-“ he didn't hear any more of the words from the alpha woman’s mouth before he took off toward the body a foot in front of him.

“Fender!” John exclaimed before dropping heavily to his knees next to him.

“Hey Doc,” he rasped out between a small smile and John sighed in relief.

“We didn't want to move him in case we did more damage” came Stark’s voice from behind him.

“No that’s good.” John said running his eyes over Fender’s body. There was a clear entrance wound into his right oblique and John suspected it had hit nicked his lung. His uniform was coated in warm, sticky blood that stained John’s hands as he cut it away.

“If it were any other circumstance Doc, I’d be far too excited I had you on your knees taking my clothes off, but I feel my blood is otherwise engaged in rushing from my chest to facilitate” Fender laughed and then groaned and spluttered a wet cough.

“Oi! You are a cheeky git Fender; As if you could get me on my knees for anything other than a medical emergency!” John chucked back cleaning the wound in order to get a better look and save it from infection.

“I wouldn't be so sure Doc. I've heard I can be very charming.”

“Oh yeah, you really wooed me with your first comment. Plus I’m old enough to be your Father!” John commented moving to stem the bleeding from the wound and try to prevent any more blood loss.

He needed to re-inflate the lung but it was far too risky to do now considering the sound of bullets still broke the air and the chances of infection were too high. Fender seemed well enough to move and stable enough to get back to camp for John to do the procedure.

“ ‘Wooed’ Doc, really? Maybe you’re right about the age thing…” Fender joked.

“Hey!” John acted offended, “You may have bullet in your chest but don’t for one second think that I won’t refuse to sign off on your pain meds!”

“Ah, how many times have we heard that empty threat before Cap.”

John chuckled and signaled for Stark and Meghan, the female alpha from early, over with the stretcher and helped to place Fender securely on it.

“C’mon Doc” Meghan said, “There is another group of rebels closing in quickly we need to get moving before we have more casualties on our hands.”

“Yeah. You two go on ahead I need to pack these supplies back up. I’ll only be a second”.

She nodded before her and Stark began the fairly short distance back to the truck where the soldiers had all started to pile back into.

John knelt down again and quickly grabbed at the supplies and threw them into the bag. He just extended his legs to stand when he heard the shout and then the crack of a weapon.

At first he didn’t really notice anything and he turned around in time to watch as a rebel behind him was shot down by one of the soldiers at the truck. He saw as Kev’s eyes widened  and he made to move toward John.

Bewildered John looked down and was surprised to see that there was an ever growing red stain moving across the chest of his uniform. He moved his hand upward to feel it, hot and thick he followed it along to his shoulder where it seemed to be coming from and his fingertips grazed an open wound.

That’s when everything seemed to hit at once: The pain, the noises, all came hurling back into his body and John found himself paralyzed by it all.

He realised the wound must have hit his brachial artery with the rate that the blood was rushing out from the opening. Even with an Omega’s pain threshold John found it almost impossible to think with the agony. It felt like his flesh was burning and as it throbbed, it stung and John couldn’t focus. Instead he found himself stumbling forwards toward the fast approaching Kev but he only made it two steps before his crumpled, clutching his shoulder.

He could feel as his muscles trembled and shivers racked through his body. Adrenaline was quickly leaving his system and his body was slipping into shock. John tried to focus on his breathing, he knew it was only a matter of seconds before the shock gripped him completely and he’d black out, but he also knew with these rapid changes happening in his hormone levels the chances of him entering a Drop were high. He needed to try and stay calm to prevent it because it would only make everything far more complicated for the Doctors and nurses but he wasn’t too sure how well he did before it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this chapter would be John back in London but I apparently got a bit carried away with the incident leading to John's return and that seemed like the most natural place to break.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and let me know how you're liking it (or disliking as long as you're not rude :P ).
> 
> I promise that next chapter is going to be there meeting!
> 
> Erica x
> 
> (Side note: I wrote this listening to a "Drunk in Love" cover by Ed Sheeran and I'm uncertain as to why that seemed to be my song for this chapter! ha!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still all un-beta'd so all mistakes are 100% my own though I tried to keep it all to a minimum! Also, an amazing thank you Ariane Devere ( http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/43794.html) who posted the transcriptions for the episodes I'll be using! They are a God send!

John hated being in this stupid office.

He hated that he had been shot and wounded. He hated that he was broken, that the army had abandoned him back into the harsh reality that even here, in the ‘birth place of democracy’ John was seen only for his dynamic and not the skilled, decorated veteran he was! But mostly, he hated this stupid office.

“How’s your blog doing?” Ella asked.

Correction:  Mostly he hated that idioic blog Ella, the army appointed therapist he was forced to go to, insisted he kept.

“Yeah, good”, John lied, “Very good.”

“You haven’t written a word, have you?” she shook her head and wrote.

“You just wrote ‘Still has trust issues’ “John commented.

“And _you_ , read my writing upside down.” Okay, John noted that she might have a point on that one and smiled awkwardly, feeling as a heat spread up the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

“John. You need to take this seriously. You’re a soldier and an omega-“John felt himself bristle at that, and saw as Ella raised her brow, “ things are far more different than what you have been used to for the past, what? Twelve years. It’s going to take you a while to adjust to civilian life and if I’m not seeing you make progress or refusing to co-operate I’ll have to refer you to an Omega Recovery Clinic in order to ensure you don’t cause you’re self any harm”.

Maybe John should revise what he hated the most one last time…because if there was anything that both trumped this god forsaken office and Ella’s stupid blog, it was the thought of an Omega Recovery Clinic! It was mandatory for all Omega medical students to do a stint in one during their studies and they were everything that was wrong with society contained in one building!

They worked as ‘Rehabilitation’ or ‘Shelters’ for Omegas, usual unbounded, who had gone through traumatic experiences resulting in a Drop , or perceived Drop, and where considered a risk to themselves or ‘too emotionally unbalanced to be sound of mind’.

They usually had words like ‘Sanctuary’ or ‘Haven’ tacked into them somewhere and were utter bollocks.

Most, if not all of the Omegas John had been exposed to in his short time in “Pleasant Days Sanctuary for Omegas, South London”, had been perfectly sound of mind and no harm to themselves at all and those that were, well that was the result of how society treated them!

Some had refused to fully co-operate with stupid mandatory _three month_ psychological treatment following a Drop or even something fairly trivial like a heated confrontation with an Alpha or Beta (though that only tended to happen if an officer was called in to break it up and they were sticklers for the book and ignored both parties insistence that it was fine).

Some of them were signed in under their Alpha’s instance, in which case, in accordance to the law they were not allowed to be released without their Alpha’s consent. More than once John had witnessed Omega’s being checked in simply because their Alpha had a bit on the side and their Omega was, understandably, not on board. So _clearly_ they needed to enter a programme offered known as the ‘Re-educational Course in Omega Care and Understanding of Biology’ in order to be reminded that “only broken Omegas feel the need to question their Alphas ultimate decision”.

Basically, it was a shorter version of an etiquette course that all Omegas had been tortured with from the ages of sixteen to eighteen, in which, they were fed bullshit about how their dynamics biology effected the way they had to act. Of course these things were all ‘natural instincts all Omegas should have! Which are simply explained and demonstrated in order to reduce anxiety’.

John had once asked his teacher, Mr.Sutton (a forty year old Beta who wished he was an Alpha. Who was also fat, bald and unsurprising, single.), in one of these said classes: ‘if they are natural instincts then why did they need to be taught them?”. Now, John had regarded that as a valid question.

 Mr. Sutton on the other hand, regarded it as wilful disobedience and disrespect and resulted in John on his knees, in ‘perfect submissive form John Watson! Straight back, hands clasped!’ for an hour after class facing the wall.

John had decided just to shut his mouth after that and gritted his teeth; filing the whole experience away in his mind as just another reason to hate society. It was actually one of the reasons John had been so drawn to the idea of being an Army Medic. It was the only course that didn’t require you’re result or certificate from that class.

Now however, John was forced to face the threat of having to relive that experience again if he didn’t co-operate.

Those classes were humiliating enough as a teenager he couldn’t even fathom how horrific they would be now at the age of thirty! He could cope with having to do enough to get by in his day-to-day civilian life without getting himself in enough trouble to have him committed but he didn’t think he’d survive ‘re-education’.

“John, are you listening to me?” Ella asked, pulling him from his own mind.

“Oh,um sorry. Yes, I’m listening.”

“What did I just say to you then?” she said placing her hand together around her crossed knees and looking at him sceptically.

He hated that too. It was something they had done in his ‘education’ classes whenever you were about to get into trouble. They’d always ask you to repeat what they had just said in order to ‘ensure you fully understand what you did wrong’, as if Omega’s were idiots! Plus there was nothing to understand- the punishments were unfair and unnecessary half of the time!

“You were talking about the difficulty of readjusting to civilian life and the importance of my co-operation.” John echoed back, he knew his tone was bordering on disrespectful and it made him sound like a petulant child but he found it difficult to care.

“It is important that you try to readjust John and writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you.”

John sighed, that was the main problem, “ _Nothing_ happens to me.”

* * *

 

Following another ten minutes of lecturing from Ella about the importance of branching out and reaching out to family members, his sister and old school friends or colleges John decided that he needs to go for a walk.

John was almost certain that therapy was the last thing that should make him feel like he wanted to escape, maybe find a way to get back to Afghanistan, back to his camp and comrades; back to where his life made sense! But, alas, that’s exactly what therapy made him want to do.

So, that’s how he ended up angrily limping through Russell Square Park leaning heavily on his cane which just acted a constant physical reminder that he was, indeed, broken.

 He wasn’t even shot in the leg for God’s sake! It was a side effect of the Drop he had entered apparently- not that John remembers much of that having been heavily sedated during that phase… God, he had been such a mess.

_“Captain Watson! I’m going to have to ask you to please stop thrashing around!” a nurse scolded from his bedside._

_John stopped his movements hearing her voice. He tried to speak to ask her what was happening but all that came out was a violent cough that tore at his throat and caused him to wrench his shoulder._

_“Don’t try and speak just yet Captain! Really, you should know better being a medical professional yourself!” She said reaching across to his bedside locker to grab a glass of water from there and bring it to his lips; allowing him a few sips of the refreshing liquid before taking it away._

_“Give it a go now.” She smiled._

_“Thank You” he said, though it was barely audible and croaky._

_“You’re welcome” was her reply. “Do you know what happened to you?”_

_“I was shot.”_

_“Yes, in the shoulder. You severed an artery and there was a lot of bleeding. You’ve had three blood transfusions.”_

_Wow. John had known he wasn’t going to be in good nick but three blood transfusions sounded a bit excessive._

_His face must have conveyed his thoughts because she responded with “Yes I know! Gave us all a bit of a scare with that Dr.Watson!”_

_“Sorry” he laughed, or tried to, though it sounded more like a weird cross between a wheeze and a cat throwing up._

_She chuckled herself at the sound but her face took the shape John knew all too well._

_“What went wrong?”_

_“The bullet fragmented Doctor and severed a few of your ligaments and damaged some nerves…Your left arm is weak but it should be okay with physiotherapy…”_

_Well that wasn’t that bad. John could work with that! Complete his physio and get back to work! Sure, he might have to return to London for the actual treatment but give it a few months and he could be redeployed._

_He was tempted to give a sigh of relief but the fact that her face seemed only to deepen into the expression every person feared from their doctor/nurse he held it in and instead asked,_

_“But?”_

_“But the nerve damage caused your hand to have an intermittent tremor….I’m so sorry.”_

That’s where things started to grow foggy for John. Kev told him later that he had freaked out and the nurse had administered a sedative to try and stave off a Drop but he had been too distressed and he entered one anyway. When he awoke he was as he was now:

A thirty year old, broken, veteran of the British Army .

He was unemployed due to being an Omega doctor and surgeon with an intermittent tremor which meant he was dependent on a finite army pension (A.K.A. he was borderline homeless, unless he got a flat share! Yeah right.). Oh yeah! And let’s not forget the fact that he also suffered from PTSD which presented itself in the form of nightmares, the limp he was told was all in his head and that he would be perceived by most in the country as an Omega in need of re-educating…

There was no way he was going to get a flat mate; let alone that family he always told himself he’d start on after the army.

Just as John began to contemplate just _how_ terrible it would be to go drown himself in that fountain in front of him, someone again pulled him out of his thoughts.

“JOHN! John Watson!”

John turned his head to see a slightly rotund man with glasses heft himself up of a bench and begin an odd run/waddle toward him with a large smile on his face.

John honestly had to admit he had no clue who the man was but as he reached John he cleared it up.

“Stamford” he said, “Mike Stamford! We were at Bart’s together?”

STAMFORD! Jesus! He had gained weight.

“Yes, sorry, yes, Mike!” John awkwardly stuttered out grabbing the man’s offered hand.

“Yeah, I know. I got fat!” Mike laughed and John tried to deny it in what he hoped was a somewhat convincing manner.

“Sarah loves to bake and well….she’s very good at it!” He laughed again.

“Oh! Are you still with Sarah?” John asked.

“Yup! We’re 13 years together next month, 10 years bounded in July” he beamed and it was only then that John even noticed the bond bite just visible by the collar of his shirt and the bonding band embedded on his left hand’s ring finger.

Sarah had been Mike’s Alpha when they were at Barts, they had met just before Mike was due to begin and he had told John he felt like she might be the one. She was very kind, but somewhat strict, though she only ever encouraged Mike in his academics, which was surprising as many alpha’s hated the idea of their Omega, 1) Working and 2) Working in an occupation perceived as higher up than theirs. But, despite being a Primary school teacher she had supported his want to become a doctor.

John had liked her.

“I’m glad” he said and for the first time since the gun shot- John honestly meant it.

“Thanks! Anyway, what about you? I heard you abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?”

“I got shot.” John said awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m sorry” Mike said looking embarrassed, “I’m always putting my foot in it. Sarah still gives out to me for that.”

John laughed a bit at that. Mike had always been blissfully unaware of crossing certain lines with his good intentions and John and their friends in Uni had always found it a little bit amusing to watch  those instances occur and the resulting exasperated telling off he would get from a bemused Sarah.

“Could I get you a coffee in apology? That is, if you’re not busy”

“I’d love a cup of tea mate, if it’s on offer?”

Mike beamed and confirmed that tea was in fact on offer and they left to get some from the cart a few feet away before moving back to the bench.

“Are you still at Bart’s then?” John asked taking a sip of his tea.

“Mmm”, Mike  hummed in agreement with his lips on the mouth of the coffee cup before swallowing and saying, “Teaching now. Bright young things, like we used to be. God, I hate them!”

They both shared a laugh over that. What John wouldn’t give to go back to that time in his life-Maybe he could warn himself not to get shot in the God damn shoulder! Maybe see if he could get it so the Rebel clipped his side, or maybe even a leg?

“What about you? Just staying in town ‘til you get yourself sorted?” he asked taking another sip.

“I can’t afford London on an Army pension” John sighed out.

“Ah,” Mike exclaimed, “ and you can’t bear to be anywhere else. That’s not the John Watson I know”.

“Yeah, well I’m not the John Watson-“ John began a bit more harshly than he meant to and he stopped himself.

“Sorry, I did it again.” Mike looked meekly at John and asked “Another tea?”

John laughed again. It was nice talking to Mike, he could almost forget that he was so unbelievably unhappy with his life.

“Couldn’t Harry help?”

Well, every so often he could.

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen!” John bit out sarcastically.

“I dunno, “Mike shrugged, “Get a flatshare or something maybe?” he suggested.

“Oh come on Mike!” John gave a half-hearted laugh of disbelief.

“Who’d want _me_ for flatmate?” he questioned, waving a hand along his body as if to indicate that his physical flaws were enough to strike him out of any running for ‘possible flatemate material’.

Mike chuckled thoughtfully and John looked at him suspiciously.

“What?”

“Well,” Mike started looking at John “You’re in fact the _second_ person to say that to me today!” he said brightly.

“Who was the first?”

* * *

 

It didn’t take much convincing on Mikes part to get John to join him on his trip back to Bart’s to meet the potential flatmate considering how desperate John was to stay in London. The last thing he wanted was to be forced into the rural arse of nowhere, which was about the only place he could afford alone on an army pension, where he would have to put up with even more ignorance and prejudice based on his dynamic.

And John had to admit to himself upon entering the lab and noticing the beautiful specimen in a trench-coat, he didn’t think much more convincing was going to be in order! But then it spoke.

“Mike, can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine.” An alpha.

John had spent enough time around them in the Army to spot one straight off the bat but even if he hadn’t the slight commanding inflection in his tone, paired with the fact he didn’t even have the decency to _look up_ properly when asking and his general dominating aura,it  would have been enough to give it away.

What was Mike thinking? He knew John was considered willful enough _before_ the army days, how was John supposed to cope with living with an alpha, who by the sounds of it came from money which usually meant they were a pretentious prick!

“And what’s wrong with the landline?” Mike questioned and John felt himself tense slightly, wondering how the alpha would react.

“I prefer to text.” he stated with a slight shrug, barely looking up and twisting the focus on the microscope.

Oh, well that was surprising…

“Sorry. It’s in my coat.” Mike lied lamely and the alpha just sighed and resigned himself back to whatever it was he was doing.

He certainly wasn’t what John had expected when he first spoke. Maybe this could work. Obviously, if Mike was okay around this alpha, enough so that he thought both John and he could both co-habitate in a flat together without one, or both of them being committed…it could be worth a go.

So, with that John recalled that he in fact he had a mobile he could offer to start things off on a good note!

“Er, here” John said fumbling for a second when the Alpha looked up at him, before getting the mobile out, “Use mine.”

Smoooooth Watson, you look like a desperate Omega. God, this backfired quickly.

“Oh.” The man seemed surprised by John’s sudden involvement, or perhaps more surprised that John was there, “Thank you.”

He then stood and moved in a way some might have labelled as ‘stalking’ toward John, forcing him to fight against the shiver that wanted to dance along his spine. John refused to let it happen though. If this flatshare had any hope in working John needed this Alpha to know he was no wilting wallflower.

So instead of the expected, drop in both shoulders and gaze to an approaching Alpha, John straightened his back, shoulders squared and gaze locked on his.

He noticed as the man’s (beautiful) lips twitched slightly at the corners into a small smile that read, not as patronizing but…pleased? And John felt as butterflies he had suspected were long dead from the age of twenty, fluttered back to life.

The man’s gaze flickered to Mike briefly before landing back on John, locking once more.

“It’s an old friend of mine, John Watson.”

The man, whose name John still had not been told, then reached out to take the offered phone before turning away slightly and beginning to type on the extracted keyboard.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” What? John had once again got caught up in the majesty of the man that he almost missed what he had said.

How would he-? He shot a glance at Mike, who just returned a shit-eating grin back.

“Sorry?”

“Which was it- Afghanistan or Iraq?” He questioned, flicking his grey eyes up to catch John’s once again with a slight look that crossed between impatience and amusement.

John shot another bewildered look towards Mike who had the same smug smile before answering,

“Afghanistan. Eh, Sorry, how did you know…?” John asked watching as amusement won out on the man’s face but just before he answered the door opened and their attention shifted.

“Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you” the man said, closing John’s phone before handing it back and turning to take the cup from the small omegas hand.

She was a slight thing, with mousy brown hair that suited her mouse like behavior. She seemed skittish and shy, ducking her head slightly and only looking up at the man through lashes in fleeting glances. It was obvious that she was enamoured by the man, which wasn’t shocking, and John couldn’t help but wonder if he too was interested.

John also wished that that particular thought hadn’t sent a pang of disliking toward the small thing- because she seemed so innocent and lovely and it made John feel like a dickhead.

“What happened to the lipstick?”

“Oh,” she said tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, “It wasn’t working for me” she smiled awkwardly.

“Really? I thought it was a big improvement.” Shit, maybe he did like her.

“Your mouth’s too small now” Then again, maybe he was just a dickhead too. He took a sip of his coffee and turned back to his station.

Now John just felt sorry for the poor thing who looked disheartened for a brief moment before looking to resolve herself with  smile replying, “…Okay.” Before heading back out the door.

Wow, John felt really shit now, clearly the girl was hopelessly in love with a bastard and John had been jealous enough to dislike her for it. Smooth.

It took him another second to realise that the man had begun speaking to him again.

“I’m sorry, what?” John apologised turning his attention fully back to the man at hand.

“I play the violin when I’m thinking.” He said typing away on a keyboard not bothering to look at John, “Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end.” Now he looked and John’s breath caught slightly as curious eyes danced across his features, as if reading,

 “Would that bother you? Potential flatements should know the worst about each other.” He finished throwing an obviously false smile that John hated in comparison to the real smirk he had gotten earlier. Not that that mattered or that John even remembered it. Okay, this was getting ridiculous John needed to stop.

John shot another glance at Mike, wondering just how much the other omega had shared with this man.

“So, you told him about me?”

“Not a word.” What? Then how-? He turned back to face the raven haired figure who’s eyes shone with a certain type of smugness john found intriguing over infuriating….which was new, and interesting.

“Then who said anything about flatmates?” john asked guardedly.

The man rolled his eyes slightly at that, “ _I_ did.” John shot him a slight glare and the man sighed again moving on to better explain.

“Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn’t that difficult a leap.” He ended, sounding almost bored.

“How _did_ you know about Afghanistan?” John wasn’t above admitting that the whole thing was kind of creepy… no matter how good looking the Alpha might be.

The man ignored him, instead throwing on a long grey peacoat and pulling his mobile from the pocket to check it. Wait, if he had a mobile there why did he need to borrow-

“Got my eye on a nice little place in central London.” The man interrupted his thoughts once more, “Together we ought to be able to afford it.”

“We’ll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o’clock” he stated, voice leaving little room for disagreement and John felt an older familiar tug that reminded him, not of previous over-bearing alpha boyfriend or girlfriends, or even of his educational classes, but of the army.

“Sorry- Gotta dash. Think I left my riding crop in the mortuary”

Well, that certainly did not remind him of the army…but vaguely of a particularly fun night with one of his exes (well, only if you minus the mortuary). It did however, remind him that this man was _not_ a potential boyfriend, but flatmate and John could not let him have all the control if this was going to work!

So, “Is that it?” John questioned challengingly. Something a small part of him regretted as the man moved in closer and whilst looking down asked, “Is that, what?”.

The man was no doubt intimidating and John had a feeling that he was doing this on purpose, a lot of Alpha's did. John was used to them becoming defensive and arrogant when they felt their dominance being questioned: pushing their natural instincts up a notch in order to fully activate John's and get him to back down...But this, this seemed different somehow though John couldn't understand why...

John felt himself bristle and squared his shoulders in resolve. He was an (ex) Captain of Her Majesty’s Army. SPECIAL FORCES for Christ’s sake, he would not be push around by some alpha. Even, if said Alpha was the most handsome being he had even seen.

“We’ve only just met and we’re gonna go and look at a flat?”

“Problem?”

John smiled in disbelief, this man couldn’t be serious, though a quick look back at Mike’s smug mug showed he seemed to be.

“We don’t know a thing about each other; I don’t know where we’re meeting; I don’t even know your name!” John said exasperated.

The man moved his head down closer to John, began squinting his eyes as if reading fine print before straightening back up and beginning to sprout a torrent of personal information about John that he had no idea how he would have garnered:

“I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him – possibly because he’s an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic – quite correctly, I’m afraid.” He cast his gaze downwards to John’s cane and leg and John couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment that washed over him with the Alpha’s acknowledgement of just how _broken_ John was exactly.

“That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?” he said smugly before walking towards the door and beginning to leave before popping his head back and saying, “The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street” before winking at John with a smile and turns around to say “Afternoon” to Mike and parting.

John turned back to face mike stunned.

“Yeah. He’s always like that” Mike informed him, the smile still plastered on his face and John wasn’t sure if he was excited about that prospect….or terrified by it.

Now, John just had to decide whether or not he would show up at the address to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the pair finally meet! I promised it would come about eventually and here it is, though brief I'll admit! I was hoping to have comfortable started into the "A Study in Pink" case in this but it turns out that these chapters are far longer and more detailed than my initial thoughts, so I hope you don't mind!
> 
> As always, I hope you're enjoying it :D Please feel free to comment and let me know what you're liking or even disliking thus far, constructive criticism is just as welcome as long as it is done respectfully!
> 
> Thanks again,  
> Erica x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normal disclaimers still apply! As always all mistakes are mine, I tried my best to avoid too many but there are over 17 pages and typos are more than likely going to be missed by my weary eyes that are tired of looking that said 17 pages! But, I hope you still enjoy it!!!

After the initial shock of meeting Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Mike had taken pity on John and invited him out for a drink, which, as it turned out conspired into several.

“So, he’s just…always like that?” John asked between sips of what must have been his fifth pint. He should probably stop…

“Yup!” Mike said as cheerfully as ever though his eyes were slightly more hooded with the effects of the alcohol, “Always an arrogant sod!” he laughed with a slight hiccup tacking on to the end.

John laughed too and took another sip.

“How do you know him? Does he work at Bart’s?”

“No,” Mike shook his head, “I’m not really sure what it is that he does, I know his Pack Alpha is a detective of sorts- saw his name signed on a permission notice for the labs once. Maybe he helps him out, he always has case files and things marked as ‘evidence’ but I can’t imagine any department hiring Sherlock. He’s not the easiest to get along with.”

“Oh cheers mate! Glad you connected the dots between me and him for potential flatmates so!” John joked and Mike let out a booming laugh.

“If anyone was strong enough to put up with the whirlwind that is, Sherlock Holmes, it would be you John Watson. Even before the army, you were one independent Omega. ‘ Always admired that about you.” Mike admitted, words slurring ever so slightly toward the end.

“Thanks” John murmured slightly embarrassed, independent was one way of putting it, though if you asked his then Alpha she would have pointed it as a failure in training most of them time.

“Emily would have said that was a flaw!” he chuckled.

“Emily was a bitch.” Mike stated angrily, “Sarah  thought so too.”

 John knew he looked taken aback by that admission. He had never heard Mike say something like that about someone he dated in the time that he had known him; Mike was such a softie even as a teen.

“Sorry,” Mike apologised, “I probably shouldn’t have said that….It’s been awhile since I’ve had this much to drink. Guess I don’t handle it like I used to!” he joked.

“Mate, you can stop apologising for everything I don’t mind…she was a bitch anyway! Don’t know why I stuck around”

“Ah, young love John Watson! It always seems so promising!” Mike declared, pushing his arms up and out in a large gesture of grandeur and possibilities.

John laughed loudly at that one and noticed that some of the other patrons had turned to look at them now, some of them smiling fondly at two Omegas sharing what must have obviously looked like a night free from their Alpha’s, others looking disapproving for their behaviour, but they were pricks so John didn’t care.

….Maybe it wasn’t just Mike who the alcohol was affecting….

“God, if she had tried to make me kneel next to her one more time in class I think I would have lost it!”  John smiled and shook his head lightly as if trying to shake of the reality of his own stupidity of staying with that woman when they were clearly so mismatched.

“Oh God! Yes! I can remember the look on her face whenever you refused-“

“Which was every time!” John interjected.

“Yes!” Mike said through a fit of giggles that infected John’s person too.

“She was quite persistent though” Mike lifted his glass toward John slightly, “you have to give her that! Do you remember the time we went into Biology and she-“ Mike began, though he didn’t get far before he was interrupted.

“Michael Stamford!”

Mike jumped in his seat and he twisted in it to face the direction of the voice and John looked to.

“Sarah!” Mike smiled and inclined his neck slightly upon her approach, baring it just so in a way that looked so completely natural. Sarah came closer, placing her hand on his shoulder and ran her thumb gently along the offered skin in a subtle acknowledgement.

“You are in quite the amount of trouble Michael!” She said in a tone that read as a joke, “You seemed to neglect to tell me it was one John H. Watson you were going for drinks with! I may have insisted I was here from the beginning, Lord knows you two and alcohol only ever resulted in me rescuing the both of you from Uni security, only now I’m sure it would be from prison which I was rescuing you two from!” She laughed and John was happy to see that she seemed unchanged by the years other than the smile lines that only visibly marked her personality.

“It’s nice to see you again Sarah” John smiled, holding her gaze for only a second before dropping it and dipping his head slightly in respect before looking back up.

“As charming as always Johnny” she smiled fondly and John felt seventeen again. Sarah had been one of the few Alpha’s John had ever felt really earned the respect he was expected to give away freely. Even in his more ‘rebellious’ and stubborn moments at University, Sarah had been the only Alpha who he had ever felt compelled to respect- even if it was begrudgingly in certain moments. Like those nights when both he and Mike drank a bit too much and did something stupid ending with the two of them in the security cells of the university guards.

Despite, her being only Mike’s alpha and newly coupled as well, Sarah had taken on the responsibility of John’s guardian after the first time they both ended up in the cells following an impromptu swim in the locked swimming pool, and she couldn’t get him out due to the fact she wasn’t listed as his respective Alpha or Guardian. At the time, he had had Harry down due to the fact that his father had refused to sign off on his admittance to University and Harry had agreed to take legal responsibility of John from his Dad so he could go.

Only thing was, she didn’t actually want any of the ‘responsibility’ aspects, so she just never bothered to turn up to things like, Progression meetings or apparently uni bail hearings….which of course, meant John spent a total of 48 hours in the stupid place, most of it drunk/hung over and embarrassingly emotional. In the end Sarah had had to drag a drunk and fairly uncaring Harry to the campus to sign the papers that released him. After Sarah had offered to take on Guardianship until John turned 18 or got an Alpha, Harry had replied that she “didn’t care” and waved her rights to Sarah after John agreed.

The Guardianship had worked well for John. Sarah never tried to manipulate John or take advantage of the power the guardianship granted. She didn’t hold him to any rules, other than do not get arrested, didn’t treat John like her Omega- because that was Mike- and only ever punished him in terms of not allowing him out for drinks or kneeling facing a wall (which John still hated to this day) but she never physically punished him ever!

“That’s something only your real Alpha can do. It’s not my place” Sarah had always said whenever John had angrily lashed out against her about it- because honestly sometimes John would have rathered it than being shoved in a corner looking at a wall for what felt like an infinite amount of time thinking about his stupid decisions.

Though those moments happened only rarely and when John broke the main rule of ‘don’t get arrested’ or did something monumentally stupid…like starting a fight with a 6’ 3” alpha who weighed two of John.

Other than that, Sarah just acted as a friend and John had found he easily showed her the respect she deserved for showing it to him too.

Like John had said earlier, he liked Sarah and John supposed, he shouldn’t have been taken aback by Mike and her still being together. She was certainly the kind of Alpha most Omegas hoped for: One with both a heart and a conscience.

“So, Johnny!” she said pulling out a chair next to Mike, clasping her hand with his on top the table and using her other hand to rest her chin on and looking at John with a big, goofy smile that John couldn’t help but return, “What have you been up to?”

* * *

 

John had filled them both in, with a small bit of detail and a little bit of evading the truth in certain points, about his time in the army and being discharged. They drank a little more before Sarah declared he should probably take a fairly intoxicated Mike home and insisted that an equally drunk John get a taxi, which John agreed to only because he couldn’t really feel his feet anymore.

John was almost certain that deciding to go and meet this, Sherlock Holmes, was a terrible idea; but, as he walked toward his very own hell on earth, or flat as some might name it, he couldn’t stop thinking about what exactly might happen if he did…

Mr. Holmes seemed interesting to say the least.

John was used to dealing with all types of Alpha’s from the army. He knew how they worked and how to get them to respect him in the way he deserved, although that tended to be easy enough considering those Alpha’s understood that in the line of fire Omegas like him where just as essential to them getting home alive as any other solider. But, even before the army John had become good at learning how to read what exactly an Alpha thought of him and how to get them to change their perspective on him enough to get what he wanted from them.

It was just… _he_ seemed different. He was almost impossible to get a read on. One second he barely takes notice of your dynamic, ignoring blatant questioning of his requests, the next he’s all stalking limbs and pushing out dominance but then smiling when argued with? John didn’t know what to make of it. This was all entirely new to him- Mr. Holmes was completely new and utterly…brilliant.

Still creepy in how he knew all that stuff about John despite the fact that Mike _swore_ he told him nothing; and even though John knew that those red flags should be enough for him to rule the mysterious alpha out of the running. John felt a pull to go.

God, he didn’t know! He put the key into the door and turned the lock, pushing it open to see the beige interior of his cell.

He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t do it. John was certain if he had to open this door one more time after this one he wouldn’t have to think twice about heading over to that desk drawer and pulling out his weapon and…well, John had thought about it enough over the past couple of months that the next sequence of events didn’t even need repeating.

The thing that had stopped him most of those times before was the fact that if he used that gun he would get his old CO and a very nice Beta lady from HR into heaps of trouble. Technically John should have had his firearm removed after being discharged from the army due to the fact that an Omega owning a gun outside of the service was illegal with a possibility of 3 years imprisonment to those who supplied the weapon and a judicial strapping for the Omega, three month therapy sessions and in some case an included court appointed Guardian. And though John wouldn’t have been subjected to either, he couldn’t risk putting two or more people into prison for understanding his dynamic didn’t suddenly kick in outside of service! He was just as competent with a firearm now as he was in the army!

 Civilian life was shit but with the introduction of Mr. Holmes…it seemed a little more bearable.

John limped over to his bed and plonked down, recoiling slightly as his leg twinged and pulled his mobile out. Scrolling to his messages, he went to his sent folder and opened the last message sent:

**If brother has a green ladder,**

**Arrest brother.- SH**

Well, if John’s interest of the man had not been piqued before, it certainly would have been by that.

What was it exactly that Mr. Holmes did? The text made him seem like a police officer of sorts, but the fact that he was in the lab made him think maybe he was a forensic scientist…though, if John was honest with himself, he couldn’t picture the man as that for some reason. He didn’t seem the type who could work his days in a lab. His body thrummed with an energy John recognised in himself, one of a want for adventure and adrenaline. No, not a lab worker, but what then?

John dragged his laptop across his duvet from the edge of his beg toward him and pressed the flashing blue standby, waiting for it to boot up before pulling up his web browser and typing, “Sherlock Holmes” into the search bar.

Within seconds, his screen lit up with results: the first of them titled, The Science of Deduction, which looked interesting enough.

John clicked into the first link and waited again for his shitty laptop to load the site. It was plain enough when it did finally fill his screen. It wasn’t flashy, just simple in its layout with links to things like “Analysis of Tobacco Ash”…

As John read the welcoming screen, he only became more confused about what it _was_ exactly the man did!

Maybe doing this drunk wasn’t the best decision because it didn’t seem make that much sense; apparently you could tell things like who was a software designer by his tie or an airline pilot by his left thumb?

It was possible John was reading it all wrong, the words were blurred somewhat and he found it hard to fully pay attention to them as they swayed.

Yeah, doing this drunk was certainly not the best way to try and figure the Alpha out.

The man was already a series of blurred lines in John’s mind and he didn’t need the alcohol smudging them even further.

God he was tired.

He glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen and watched as the small digital numbers mocked him. Shit. It was six in the morning… he was meeting the man in 12 hours and he was going to be hung-over and tired. Great impression there Watson! He was such a mess sometimes.

With that thought he closed the lid to his laptop and undressed before crawling beneath the covers on his bed and letting sleep deprive him from his thoughts.

* * *

 

John awoke with a start, his heart beating rapidly and sweating profusely. It was another nightmare but this time it differed from the usual replay of Afghanistan, this time it was about him missing his meeting with Mr. Holmes.

 In it, John had awoke to see the clock reading 6.50 and he realised that there was no way in hell that he was going to be able to arrive and not look like he had been drinking the night before _and_ arrive on time so he was forced to make a decision- shower and run but be pretty late, or not shower, run and make it just after 7.00. It turns out neither would work, because no matter what option John chose as the dream repeated itself in an endless cycle, John always arrived in time to watch as the Alpha wrapped the blue scarf around his throat and began to walk away. And, no matter how hard John ran after him, yelling his name, the Alpha never did more than shoot a cold and distant stare back before continuing to distance himself from John.

It kept replaying over and over until John tripped while trying to gain on the Alpha and woke up.

Scrambling, he fumbled around for his phone that he was pretty certain had fallen on the floor at some point during the night and hoped to God when he picked it up the numbers read in his favour.

4.30. Thank God! It was later than John would ever be proud to admit a thirty year old would wake up at but he’d take it right now.

So, that left him with about an hour and a half to get ready before leaving the flat in plenty of time to drag his shitty leg into the city centre during rush hour.

 John felt as his heart slowed to a relatively normal pace again and he tried to calm himself down and not think too deeply about the fact his regularly scheduled nightmares had been replaced by a new one involving the loss of an Alpha John had only just met (because the implications of that, seemed far more terrifying than the dream itself had been).

Sitting up with a groan, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and waited again until the shooting pain in his leg died back down to a bearable level which allowed him to apply pressure to it.

He walked over to his sham of a kitchen and flicked on the kettle first beginning his morning ritual toward becoming a fully functional human being before moving to the cabinet which held his paracetomol.

His head was killing him and he felt like he hadn’t drank any form of liquid in days so he swiftly knocked back a glass of water and two of the pills before taking a moment to breathe deeply. John wasn’t sure exactly what was happening to him or why it was that he seemed incapable of separating his instincts and emotions from this Alpha but, what he did know was this Alpha was different. Whether or not that was a good thing, well, that John wasn’t too sure about…

When the kettle boiled and flicked off, John fixed himself a cup, finishing it off in a half comatose daze before dragging himself to the bathroom for a quick shower.

By the time John had finished up in there it was 6.00 pm and John debated whether or not he wanted to make himself dinner… but really the thought of making a dinner for one was far more depressing than just not eating.

“This better work out…” John sighed out walking over to his chest of drawers and pulling out a fresh shirt and slacks and dressing in them.

“You look like a twat going on a date Watson!” John abolished himself looking at his reflection. He wasn’t wrong, he looked an extremely respectable Omega going out for a first date with an Alpha and hoping to impress; intentions focused fully on commitment and not just sex.

He looked a little desperate. God, how he wished he could just wear his fatigues!

….Maybe…No, okay that would look even more stupid than the dress shirt and slacks…but they always did make him feel like he was carrying home around with him when he threw them.

No, John, you can’t wear your army uniform out to a meeting with your potential flatmate and your prospective flat! One, it was weird. Two, he was almost certain it was illegal…after all he wasn’t a solider anymore, not really.

‘Well, since you’ve managed to depress yourself even further Watson, perhaps you should just get a move on- possibly try avoid all bridges, bodies of water and stay back from the tube tracks on the way!’ John thought. Relenting to his inner voice John looked in the mirror one more time, quickly opting to put on a darker pair of jeans he had and a well broken in jacket in hopes to look more like casual, self-confident man, rather than desperate date seeking Omega.

* * *

 

When John finally limped his way up to the address Mr. Holmes had told him about he knocked on the door just as he saw a black cab pulled and the man himself exited.

Now, John knows it had been less than 24 hours since he had seen the Alpha but, it was like when he saw him- he realised he had kind of missed him? As, odd as that sounded; he had only just met the man but in the short time between their meeting John had somehow grown to care a little what he thought.

A part of him was starting to panic about what he looked like again but he quickly pushed it aside when the man spoke,

“Hello.” God, was his voice always that rich?

“Ah, Mr. Holmes”, John said, limping forward leaning heavily on his cane to extend his hand to shake. Not something an Omega ever really did to an Alpha, not proper in civilian life John recalled far too late and he felt a small bubble of panic rising again but it popped quickly with the man’s small smile pulling at the corners of his lips again.

“Sherlock, please.” He said reaching out to grasp John’s hand firmly and John couldn’t stop the slight bend in his knees that came with the contact, though he (hopefully) hid it by leaning more onto his crutch.

Though if the glinting looks of amusement in the bastard’s eyes was anything to go by, he hadn’t been overly successful.

“Well,” he coughed out of embarrassment, “this is a prime spot; must be expensive.”

Mr.- Sherlock, smiled at him again, the genuine little corner tugging smile John found himself feeling quite chuffed he produced from the Alpha.

“Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she’s giving me a special deal.” He said beginning to stride over to the door and John followed.

“Owes me a favour” he continued, “A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out.” He raised his hand and knocked.

“Sorry. You stopped her husband being executed?” John asked, taken aback slightly by the whole thing.

“Oh no. I ensured it!” Sherlock replied gleefully just as the door opened to reveal a small motherly looking Beta who opened her arms wide in excitement.

“Sherlock!” She shrieked and John witnessed  once more as the small smile Sherlock seemed to only share with certain people, interesting, and enveloped the small form into a quick hug before stepping back to point to introduce John,

“Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson.” He said in a tone that seemed to be a tinged with some form of pride, as if John’s accomplishments were something Sherlock himself would seem proud of (which surprisingly warmed John’s belly in something like contentment)….though John could just be hoping that was something he was hearing.

He could admit to himself (and only himself) that his infatuation with the Alpha was slightly (read: extremely) ridiculous and may be clouding his perception in this moment. Though, John couldn’t really get himself to care to widely about that because it was nice!

The woman smiled at him and they exchanged pleasantries before she brought them up to the flat they were here to look at and John had _no idea_ how Sherlock thought they could afford it this- unless this woman’s idea of a discount was to practically give the flat away!

The place was beautiful. Victorian era, spacious enough for two and if you ignored the absolute state it was in covered in various scattered sheets of papers, books, jars and random shit, it could be perfect.

“Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed.” John voiced, moving further into the room,

“Soon as we get all this rubbished cleaned out” he started just as Sherlock did,

“Yes, I thought that too so I went straight ahead and moved in”.

“Oh…” Shit. John felt like a bit of an ass now as the Alpha looked slightly embarrassed moving around the room and did what John suspected was his hopeless attempt at cleaning which resulted in him just looking more confused than embarrassed as he tried to figure out how to fix the place up instantly.

“Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit” he said picking up a Union jack cushion and turned it upside down, so it looked the _exact_ same, before placing it carefully back on the chair where he had moved a pile of envelopes onto the mantle stabbing them into it with a knife, lest they try to escape.

John could stop the laugh that escaped him at the whole display and Sherlock’s head snapped up quickly and his eyes seemed to narrow in defence, his grey eyes seeming icy now in their appearance until they seemed to see that John meant no malice in the laughter, though John did drop his head slightly in an apology before looking up slightly saying,

 “That’s a skull”, tilting his head slightly in indication, though he didn’t lift it fully yet, give a soft smile.

“Friend of mine. Well, I say ‘friend’…” Sherlock said with a smile and he nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment of John’s apology and John chuckled at Sherlock’s comment.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment and John could of sworn he _saw_ something in the other’s eyes but before he had a chance to really catch it Mrs. Hudson spoke and whatever had happened- was over.

“What do you think then, Doctor Watson? There’s another bedroom upstairs, if, you’ll be _needing_ two bedrooms?” She asked questioningly and John’s head snapped around to see her staring wide eyed and innocent back at him.

“Of course we’ll be-” He started, admittedly a bit _too_ defensively and harsh, and he heard as a slight warning rumbled from Sherlock’s chest and John took a breath before smiling in apology to the woman and continued, “We’ll need two bedrooms.”

“Oh don’t worry Dear, unbound couples aren’t as frowned upon as they were Dr. Watson!” she said with a smile,

“Mrs. Turner next door’s got two Beta ones!” she whispered and John felt as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment and John shot a quick glance at Sherlock to see if the Alpha would correct the Beta woman but he just looks back like he doesn’t comprehend what she’s really saying and before he gets to correct her she walks into the kitchen.

“Oh Sherlock! The mess you’ve made!” She tutted and moved things around on what John assumed was their kitchen table.

John stood slightly awkwardly for a moment before limping over to the armchair Sherlock had cleared earlier. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do with everything that had just happened- the eye contact, the ignoring of Mrs. Hudson’s insinuations…it was all kind of confusing and John had a sneaking suspicion that a lot of his time with this Alpha was going to be spent with John in a perpetual state of confusion.

He fiddled with the Union Jack cushion for a bit, watching as Sherlock buzzed around the room ‘cleaning’, though John would be more likely to label it as simply re-arranging the mess, and John felt his lips quirk slightly at that and his heart warmed with the thought behind the Alpha’s movements.

“I looked you up on the internet last night.” John said, breaking the silence and Sherlock turned his head in a deliberate slowness before looking at John.

“Anything interesting?” he asked, keeping his face skilfully blank. Something which, made John feel there was something that the Alpha was suspicious John may have found and John once again felt the newly familiar feeling of confusion reappearing.

“Found your website, The Science of Deduction.”

Ah, that seemed to make him happy as a smile proudly made its home in the man’s features.

“What did you think?”

John quirked his eyebrow and the smile shattered. What was he meant to think? It had to be utter bollocks!

“You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb!” John moved to explain his scepticism of the whole claim.

“Yes;” the Alpha began defensively and John saw as the man’s eyes steeled slightly again but John wasn’t going to back down- he wasn’t going to just accept something so completely ridiculous just because Sherlock was an Alpha and looked at him with some little amount of distaste, “and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother’s drinking habits in your mobile phone.”

Okay, now he was taking the piss and John let that thought express itself in his features and saw as the Alpha steeled himself further- his eyes darkening and spine becoming more rigid and straight as his stood fully.

“How?” John asked and then something unexpected happened…Sherlock just smiled and turned away , walking toward the window and before John could fully recover from the shock of the abruptness of the man’s mood change, Mrs. Hudson walked in.

“What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that’d be right up your street.” She said holding up the newspaper in her hand, “Three exactly the same.”

“Four.” He stated and she looked confused as Sherlock peered down at what must have been a police car by the presence of the flashing lights shining up.

 

“There’s been a fourth.” He stated, dropping the curtain back down, “and there is something different about this one.”

“A Fourth?” she questioned, sounding equally as confused as John felt.

John also noted that the air around him began to buzz with an atmosphere of excitement and John wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it but before he got to analysis it much further he was interrupted by the arrival of a grey haired Alpha that, by the scent of him was both powerful and stressed to hell.

“Where?” Sherlock asked and John was already lost in the conversation.

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.” The grey haired Alpha responded in a rumbling voice.

“What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different.” He said flippantly.

“You know how they never leave notes?” the Alpha officer asked leadingly and john was certain now he felt a spike in the excitement in the atmosphere.

“Yeah.”

“This one did. Will you come?” The Alpha seemed desperate for Sherlock’s involvement in the case- though why- John still didn’t actually know.

“Who’s on forensics?” Sherlock said cautiously.

“It’s Anderson.” The officer said, looking like he already knew that answer could lose the Alpha.

Sherlock grimaced at the name, “ Anderson won’t work with me.” He said looking frustrated.

“Well, he won’t be your assistant.” The other Alpha said looking desperately at Sherlock for a confirmation of his involvement.

“I _need_ an assistant.” Sherlock whined.

“Will you come?” the alpha asked shortly in a way that suggested he was used to and over Sherlock’s attitude toward this kind of situation and John had a feeling the man had to deal with it often enough.

“Not in a police car. I’ll be right behind.” Sherlock said evenly, looking distracted suddenly.

“Thank you.” The police man said before glancing quickly around the room, shooting a smile and wink at Mrs.Hudson who laughed slightly before waving him off and looking directly at John for a moment.

Wow, John had known that the man had had some strength in his dominance when he had arrived but, it wasn’t until his attention was focused on John that he truly saw the weight behind it. The man didn’t seem aggressive, just…curious at John’s presence but even still John felt the shuddering want to bear his neck to the man in submission. He didn’t though, instead holding the man’s gaze firmly but feeling as his head tilted on its own accord to the left slightly in order to show some respect to the man.

Whatever the Alpha had been looking for in John his must have found it because his eyes softened slightly and he smirked before turning and leaving.

John was stunned from the unusual interaction, most Alpha’s never took too kindly to an Omega openly holding their gaze but for some reason both Sherlock and this new Alpha only seemed impressed by John’s reluctance to bow down and he wasn’t really sure what to make of that.

“BRILLIANT!” Sherlock exclaimed causing John to jump slightly at the sound.

“Yes!” he sighed clenching his fists in uncontrolled excitement, “four serial suicides and now a note! Oh, it’s Christmas!” he said clapping his hands together and the joy the Alpha was unexplainably feeling was almost palpable.

John realised that it should have made him forgo his current decision to live with a man who seemed to be enjoying the death and suffering of four people but, instead, John found himself getting swept up in the adrenaline that came with the mystery that lay in front of them….the possibility of the danger of the situation scratching the itch of war just slightly.

“Mrs. Hudson, I’ll be late.” Sherlock stated moving over to the coat rack grabbing his grey peacoat and slinging it on, wrapping a blue scarf firmly around his slender throat, “Might need some food.”

“I’m your landlady dear, not your housekeeper” she said, though she continued to clean the mess in the kitchen.

“Something cold will do! John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home!” he said gleefully, pick up random items from the kitchen before disappearing through the door.

“Look at him, dashing about” Mrs. Hudson said fondly with a slight smile, “My husband was just the same…But you’re more the sitting down type, I can tell” she finished looking down at John in the armchair and John shifted uncomfortably.

He certainly was not the sitting down type, or the stay at home waiting for an Alpha to return type but in this moment…that was exactly what John felt, and apparently, looked like.

“I’ll make you that cuppa. You rest your leg.” She patted his shoulder, turning to return to the kitchen.

God, John hated this! He didn’t want to rest his leg, he wanted to be running about, and he wanted to be where the danger was! He wanted to feel useful and normal again! He wanted to be John again, not just a broken Omega who needed fixing. Something he might have had the chance to do if it wasn’t for the fact he was just a broken Omega with his stupid, apparently non-existent, injury.

“Damn my leg!” John yelled, hitting the damn thing with his cane in frustration. He caught Mrs.Hudson jumping to his outburst and John instantly felt bad, this wasn’t her fault.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he apologised, “It’s just sometimes this bloody thing…” he trailed of tapping his leg a little less aggressively this time with the cane.

“I understand dear; I’ve got a hip.” She stated tapping it before walking through the archway back into the kitchen.

“Cup of tea’d be lovely, thank you.” He sighed leaning forward to grab the newspaper from the table in front of him.

“Just this once, dear” she called in, “I’m not your housekeeper.”

“Couple of biscuit too if you’ve got ‘em.” He said scanning the pages until he reached the part about the suicides.

“Not your housekeeper!”

They had written about them in some vague confusion, because though they were looking like suicides, they seemed linked and how did you have that?

John spotted that there was a picture of the man who had been at the flat earlier and it identified him as,

_Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, a prominent Alpha in London and also leading detective on the case involving what seemed to be three apparent suicides which-_

John didn’t get much further before Sherlock appeared back in the sitting room doorway.

“You’re a doctor.” He stated looking at John questioningly, “In fact, you’re an Army doctor.”

“Yes.” John said, standing to walk up to Sherlock, and looking up to lock his gaze with the Alpha.

“Any good?” Sherlock asked, quirking his brow slightly.

“Very good.” John said confidently, holding himself at ease.

“Seen a lot of injuries then; violent deaths.” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes boring deeper into John as if trying to gage his responses to the whole thing.

“Mmm, yes.”

“Bit of trouble too, I bet.” And John suddenly felt as images of the trouble he had seen flash up on his eyelids with each blink and he quietly responded,

“Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.” He paused for moment to push the thoughts back and looked back up, regaining the gaze he didn’t realise he dropped.

“Wanna see some more?”

John’s heart skipped, “Oh _God,_ yes.”

* * *

 

John felt as his heart rate began to pick up and the air around him rippled in the memories of war and for a moment John could pretend he didn’t miss it because it was here.

He knew that the world around him was moving but he wasn’t paying any attention to it. His body wasn’t able to separate the difference between this thrill, and the thrill from war. He suddenly became reacquainted with the feeling of adrenaline entering his blood stream and it was all he could do to keep his breathing even.

He knew Mrs. Hudson had said something when they reached the bottom of the stairs but he wasn’t listening- though he did catch something like ‘not decent’ and he tried to pay attention to schooling his features in case she was talking about him- but then Sherlock grabbed her shoulders in excitement, swooping down to place a kiss on the elderly woman’s cheek before proclaiming:

“The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!”

Oh yes it was! John thought. And what a game it could be! Danger, possible gunfire, working with someone who seemed as involved in the rush as he was... being useful again. It was a game indeed and John was certain he was already winning it. The war was back and John was…glad…

Sherlock opened the door to 221B and John hurried to follow but the freezing London air was a swift and very real reminder that he was _not_ at war…this, despite feeling it, was not the same. There was no desert, John was not a Captain again, there was no army to command, no people to save. In fact, the entire reason they were even getting into the hailed taxi was to go to a place where they would presumably find a woman dead.

How could John even consider that winning? God, he was even more messed up than he thought. How can anyone _miss_ war? No, John didn’t miss war. It was just the adrenaline tricking his brain. (Now, if John just repeated that enough, maybe he would start to believe it….)

Now that the rush had dimmed somewhat in the light of the morbid reality he faced, John started to wonder, what is exactly were they about to face? What were they supposed to do? What the fuck did Sherlock do that the police could not? What was he?

“Okay, you’ve got questions.” Sherlock sighed, and John had to admit- that was a bit odd in itself, but then again John may have been obvious in his slight meltdown.

“Yeah…where are we going?” he asked.

“Crime scene.” Sherlock dismissed, “Next?”

“Who are you? I mean, what do you do?” John fumbled out the question, turning his head to face the man who turned to mirror him.

“What do you think?” he asked, and John felt like he was being tested but he didn’t know what for or how to answer it properly.

“I’d say private detective…” John started hesitantly, looking at the Alpha’s face for any indication that he was moving in the right direction with this answer.

“But?” The Alpha said, not giving anything away in his features.

“…but” John licked his lips nervously, he hated feeling this unsure of himself, “the police don’t go to private detectives.”

“I’m a _consulting_ detective.” Sherlock corrected, and John was certain that wasn’t actually a thing, “Only one in the world. I invented the job.” Ah, that explained it. It wasn’t a job.

“What does that mean?” John asked, curious about the non-existent, existent job.

“It means, when the police are out of their depth, which is always,” he criticised, “They consult me.”

“The police don’t consult amateurs.” John commented before he could stop himself and the Alpha threw him a look before continuing.

“When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said ‘Afghanistan or Iraq’, you seemed surprised.”

“Yes! How _did_ you know?” Mike had sworn he hadn’t said a thing to the man.

“I didn’t know,” Sherlock stated and John was confused again by the man’s words, “I saw.” That certainly didn’t clear it up.

Sherlock must have noted John’s confusion because he moved quickly onto explain,

“Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation when you entered the room, that said trained at Bart’s so, Army doctor- obvious. Plus, if I had been in doubt on the military aspect, which I wasn’t because I never am, it would have been blatant, when we first interacted.”

John raised a brow at that and Sherlock smirked slightly before elaborating,

“When you offered your mobile, it was obvious that you were an Omega,” John snorted in disbelief at that but when Sherlock threw him another look, John indicated for him to continue.

“As I was saying, it was obvious; some inflections are too embedded to get rid of them completely, even for an Army Omega.” John chuckled at that and Sherlock smiled.

“But,” he resumed again, “when I turned to face you, you could have easily passed as a strong Beta. You fought against your training and instincts holding eye contact, even when I could see you didn’t particularly feel comfortable with it. That suggests it is something you have done for years. Clearly not in a job that involves you retaining social norm, perhaps you work alone- little human interaction- possible but not correct. You’ve just reconnected with an old school friend you clearly haven’t seen in years considering the way you both spoke of old times in passing upon entering the lab, yet you seemed at ease and Mike was willing to suggest you as a fitting room-mate. Obviously skilled in human interaction- just not social norms though. There are not many jobs in this world that don’t involve that, in fact so few that there is only really one: The Army. They don’t even require your results from the ‘Omega Educational Course’ due to the fact it is completely ghastly, incorrect in its fundamental ideals and of no use in a war. In the Army it is your rank, not your dynamic which counts. Therefore you would never have had to force yourself to give in to baser instincts and ridiculous social cues when dealing with an Alpha. So, Omega Army Doctor, it was a simple enough conclusion to reach.”

Simple?! How was any of that simple? But before John could voice that Sherlock had taken off again in his deductions and John just listened -stunned.

“Now, the whole deployment aspect was, again, simple. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp’s really bad when you walk but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq.” He finished clicking the ‘q’ in the final word, leaning back in the seat with such ease he could have just been telling John what the weather had been.

“…You said I had a therapist.” John said somewhat lamely, not entirely sure how to digest everything Sherlock had just said to him.

Sherlock looked at him with a look that read ‘Seriously?’ though he just replied with “You’ve got a psychosomatic limp- of _course_ you’ve got a therapist.”

Okay, John supposed he had a point with that one.

“And then there is your brother.” Sherlock said calmly.

“What?” was all John managed before Sherlock extended his hand and saying,

“Your phone,” and John began fishing his pockets for his mobile while Sherlock talked, “It’s expensive, email enables, MP3 player, but you’re looking for a flat share- you wouldn’t waste money on this. It’s a gift then.”

John managed to get his hand on the phone and passed it over to the alpha that moved it around dissecting it with his eyes, continuing his rant while he did, “Scratches. Not one, many over time. It’s been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn’t treat his one luxury item like this, so it’s had a previous owner. Next bit’s easy. You know it already.” He looked up from his inspection of the item to John obviously expecting an answer,

“The engraving.” And with that Sherlock flipped over the mobile to show where Clara had gotten it engraved for Harry and his eyes lit with excitement and John felt his heart flutter at the sight.

“Harry Watson: clearly a family member who’s given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man’s gadget. Could be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who can’t find a place to live. Unlikely you’ve got an extended family, certainly not one you’re close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who’s Clara? Three kisses say it’s a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model’s only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he’s just given it away. If she’d left him, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodation, but you’re not going to your brother for help: that says you’ve got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don’t like his drinking.”

“How can you possibly know about the drinking?” John asked taken aback by that particular piece of information the detective seemed to have pulled from the phone.

Sherlock’s mouth broke apart into a smile again, he seemed to be doing that a lot around John and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug about that, “Shot in the dark.” He confessed, “Good one though. Power connection-“ he said moving the phone to show it to John, “Tiny scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man’s phone; never see a drunk’s without them.”

He handed the phone back then, “There you go, you see- you were right.”

“ _I_ was right?” John said lost, “Right about what?”

“The police don’t consult amateurs.” He stated before turning to face the window and John noted that his body language was rigid, almost like he was nervous- and though John was aware he had only know the Alpha a day, he felt Sherlock was not the type to be nervous ever.

“That… was amazing.” John said and he watched as Sherlock’s shoulders softened and he whipped around to stare at John with some shock that was almost comical.

“Do you think so?”

“Of _course_ it was. It was extraordinary” calm yourself Watson, your starting to cross that doe-eyed Omega line in the sand.

 “It was quite extraordinary.” he said slightly more stiffly.

“That’s not what people normally say.” Sherlock said, still apparently in his own state of shock.

“What do people normally say?” John asked.

“ ‘Piss off!’” He said and for a second there was a silence before they both started to chuckle and John watched as the London lights bounced off Sherlock’s eyes in a dance, highlighting the way they glinted with his laughter and John’s breath caught again.

Sherlock must have caught that too because he smiled softly once the laughter stopped and then looked back out the window of the taxi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As they always are- comments of any kind, as long as they are respectful, are very welcome and appreciated!
> 
> I've also decided to turn this into a series so hopefully you'll all stick around for that! The first installment will be Study in Pink centered.I felt it was necessary to do it this way considering how much writing I've done and they haven't even arrived at the crime scene yet and I still have so much world building to include that I fear the chapter number might reach a ridiculous level so a series is needed! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed,  
> Erica x


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for my impromptu leave of absence on the story but do not fear. It is not abandoned- unfortunately real life has just managed to stop me from working on it for a while. It's also the same reason why this chapter is slightly shorter than my usual ones but I thought it best to get something new up! So, I hope you enjoy!

It didn't take much longer for the two to reach their destination and John couldn't pretend he didn't give a sigh of relief once he exited the cab. After Sherlock's brief show of skill, the rest of the taxi ride had been reduced to silence with John almost continuously watching as the London street lights shot off the sharp angles of the detectives face.

Don't get him wrong, it was an enjoyable sight indeed but, John couldn't help but feel the Alpha knew exactly what he was up to.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked, herding John toward the police tape in front of them as the cab whizzed off.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have." John replied, watching as a smirk began to form on the Alpha's lips and John felt as a great sense of smugness began to build in his own gut too. "Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're breaking their bond; and Harry is a drinker." John continued and by now the look on Sherlock's face constituted one of undeniable self pride.

It almost made John feel a bit guilty for the satisfaction he was going to get bursting the detective's bubble...almost.

"Spot on then." Sherlock proclaimed speeding up for a small second in his pace as his own sense of ego seemed to pick up alongside it. "I didn't expect to be right about everything." He admitted, though John questioned the validity of that.

"Oh," John said bringing Sherlock's attention back to him, "And Harry's short for Harriet." John finished picking up his own speed to surpass the Alpha in order to hide his own smile which cracked his features.

"Harry's your sister." was all the Alpha managed before stopping dead in his tracks and seeming to reassess the data he had collected to see where he was led astray.  
He must have found it because seconds later John just heard him proclaim, "Sister!" through gritted teeth before the sound of footsteps followed.

It only took four or five of the detectives long legged strides before he gained on John again and John was able to once more ask what it was exactly they were doing at the ever encroaching crime scene.

"There's always something." Sherlock sighed in exasperation. Okay, so clearly John's question was going to be ignored. John had an aching suspicion that his small bit of fun, pulling one over on the detective was going to cause him more agitation than the laugh was ever worth.

John thought of asking again, but by this point it seemed fairly pointless as they now stood close enough to be recognised by the woman who stood at the tape.

"Hello, freak." Wow, okay, so she was not a friendly woman and John felt as his eyes narrowed at the hostile 'greeting'.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade" was all Sherlock replied as though he didn't hear the 'freak' part of that sentence.

"Why?" she sneered back and John felt as his hand twitched by his side in annoyance toward the Beta woman in front of him.

"I was invited." Sherlock said coolly holding the woman's gaze.

"Why?" she asked, with disgust dripping so clearly from the word.

"I think he wants me to take a look" Sherlock replied flippantly.

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?" she asked, crossing her arms trying her best to sound uppity John supposed, and he felt as his internal disliking for the woman grew.  
"Always, Sally." he said, ducking underneath the tape and taking a deep breath in which John copied, though in a slightly less dramatic fashion, to determine what the detective was doing- though he got nothing out of the ordinary.

"I even know that you didn't make it home last night" Sherlock said nonchalantly though John could feel the air of smugness that the Alpha pushed out and John couldn't help the laughter that burst past his lips.

"Er, who's this?!" the now even slightly more angered Beta said, whipping her attention instantly toward John.

John felt himself stiffen at the sudden attention from the not so friendly police officer. He had dealt with much nastier than her in the army, but that didn't mean he still didn't feel a slight pang of dread every time he knew he had to address them.

"Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson." Sherlock said shortly and John watched as skepticism flooded the woman's features.

"Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan." he introduced tartly, "Old friend."

"Doctor?" she said, eyebrow raised at John who bristled further, before looking back at Sherlock with an even more skeptic look, "A colleague? How did you get a colleague?"  
Sherlock just stared at her for a moment before she returned her apparently never ending insults back at John.

"What? Did you follow him home sweetheart? He may have those high cheekbones but you're better off without love. He's a freak through and through."

John had to say he was a bit taken a back by the way she was talking to him. Sure he heard the likes of it before but this was a police officer, and a Beta to boot, usually they were slightly less hassle, knowing what it means to be underestimated.

However, that being said it did not take very long at all before he snapped out of his winded state and ventured quickly into fury.

"Excuse me Sergeant, but it's Doctor Watson or John, but not love or sweetheart. Also, no. I did not follow him home. I was in fact introduced through a mutual friend having returned from Afghanistan as a Captain in her Majesty's service. So, if you could kindly keep your ignorance and frankly snide comments to your self Sergeant, it would be most appreciated." John snapped out before lifting the tape and stepping beneath.  
"Now if you could please allow the DI to know we're here we can part our ways." John finished staring hardly at the woman in front as she lifted the radio to her lips doing just that.

"Thank you." he smiled sweetly before turning back to Sherlock who stood there with a shit eating grin plastered on his face before turning away swiftly to follow Donavan to the actual crime scene.

"I have to say Doctor, it's refreshing to see a strong Omega for a change. All the others can be so plain." Sherlock whispered and it caused John to laugh.  
"It's refreshing to meet an Alpha who doesn't have his own head up his own arse all the time."  
"I never have my head up my own arse!" Sherlock exclaimed -shocked at the suggestion.  
John laughed outwardly at that before saying, "Please Sherlock Holmes, I have a feeling that is where you keep it half of the time!" which in turn caused the Alpha to splutter out a laugh also though it stopped abruptly as a rat like Beta scuttled out of the house they were approaching.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again." So this was the one that wouldn't work with Sherlock, interesting.

"It's a crime scene Sherlock. I do not want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" he said sharply and John was starting to wonder if anyone in this place actually liked Sherlock Holmes, or even tolerated him.

"Quite. " Sherlock said before taking another deep inhale toward Anderson who stepped back in disgust, " And is your Alpha away for long?"  
"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody obviously told you."  
"Your deodorant told me that."  
"My deodorant?" Anderson asked confused by the statement, and frankly, so was John.  
"Mm, it's for men.", and Anderson bristled at that.  
"Well, of course it's for men! I'm wearing it" he said insulted.  
"So's Sergeant Donovan." How did that- OH! Wow... John did not see that one coming.  
  
"Now look!" Anderson sputtered in frustration. "Whatever you are trying to imply-" he started pointing a bony finger in Sherlock's direction.  
"I'm not implying anything," Sherlock said in wide eyed innocence.  
"I'm sure that Sally came around for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over." he finished for moment before throwing a quick look over his shoulder at Donavan before adding, "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

Which appeared to cause him to become momentarily speechless as Sherlock slunk around him through the door frame and John couldn't help looking at the Sergeants trousers, which did have a suspicious amount of dirt on the knees before following suit.

* * *

  
They continued up a bunch of stairs, which John was less than thrilled about before they finally met the DI from the house.

"You need to wear one of these." Sherlock said to John before throwing one of those boiler suits at him.

"Who's this?" The silver haired man from earlier asked shooting a look at John, obviously wondering who it was that Sherlock would care enough to drag to a crime scene. John couldn't help but feel the weight of the power carried behind those eyes and he tried his best to focus on just putting the boiler suit on in order to avoid them.

"He's with me."  
"But who is he?" The Alpha repeated again slightly more forcefully and John could feel as the tension mounted as quickly as it did in war and John felt as his breath caught and his hand stilled on the zip.  
"I said he's with me." Sherlock challenged, clearly not willing to admit who John was and ensuring his gaze locked directly with the Alpha. It was in that moment that John realised what that Alpha was. This, must have been the Pack Alpha that Mike had told him about and suddenly John was questioning if he should just back out of the house now.

As if sensing John's sudden skittishness Sherlock rumbled out a warning, "Stay." while holding his eye contact with the man in front of him.  
"Sherlock, I would watch it if I were you." The DI warned through gritted teeth. "I can get you kicked out of this crime scene as easily as I have led you in."  
To which Sherlock scoffed and John cringed.

"Please! You need me on this case." and the detective inspector stepped forward at that blatant show of disrespect ensuring they both stood toe to toe now.  
"Sherlock." he warned, but it did not seem enough to have him back down.  
"Yes, Detective Inspector?" Sherlock asked sharply and it was with that a growl ripped itself from the DI's chest and John felt as his knees hit the wooden floor boards quicker than he could register the unbelievable pain that accompanied it.

John let out a hiss then as the electric shocks continued to shoot through his knee caps and up his spine at the impact.

"John!" Sherlock let out before breaking contact with his Pack Alpha to turn his attention to the Omega.  
"I'm fine." John forced out through gritted teeth. "I'll be all right, just give me a moment." he said as he felt Sherlock moving over to hover.

"Sherlock..." Lestarde began, but Sherlock waved him off.  
"Yes, yes Lestrade" Sherlock said in vague annoyance moving back over to Lestrade. He then proceeded in removing his scarf and tipping his neck to the side in offering, though his face read of complete boredom which probably was not the smartest of expressions to choose.

Then John watched as Lestrade bit into the offered flesh watching Sherlock's face carefully as he did so, applying more and more pressure until the Alpha saw his face scrunch up in pain and held it for a few seconds before releasing.

John began to stand up and tried not to stare at the whole thing unfolding in front of him as he felt like it was really not his place to witness the reprimand. So instead he opted to take a keen interest in the table that held the latex gloves and boiler suits as he heard a whispered apology pass Sherlock's lips and caught a glance of a soothing quick lick was applied to the quick bruising mark.

The air remained still for another few moments before Sherlock moved to place his scarf back around his neck and turning back to the table following a nod from the DI.

"So, where are we?" Sherlock asked grabbing a pair of latex gloves and snapping them on before turning back to Lestrade as though nothing had happened.

"Upstairs." was the answer and Sherlock set off in front of them.

John felt as his face flushed with his sudden one on one with the Alpha who just put him to his knees... by accident, and cleared his throat awkwardly.  
"Uhhm, " the Detective followed suit in the clearing of the throats before saying, "I'm sorry about...what happened." while rubbing the nape of his neck in discomfort.  
"Yeah, well, um...thanks. For the apology! Not the um..." John stumbled and the detective laughed, which broke the unyielding awkwardness of it all.

"Right, well we should problem follow him up there. Lord knows how many members of the team will be threatening to quit if we leave him unsupervised for more than a second!" The detective inspector joke, or at least John thought it was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may have taken a while but I have finally updated! I hope you guys enjoy it and as always, all mistakes are mine but Sherlock and co., unfortunately are not :P

 

The two caught up with Sherlock at the top of the staircase, waiting impatiently  outside of the crime scene.

"You waited?"  Lestrade  asked puzzled for a brief  moment at the sight of a somewhat law abiding Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes, well, Sergeant  Higgins is in there and he threatened  me with his gun if I entered without you." Sherlock replied off cuff and John was almost certain now that  Lestrade's  earlier comment wasn't the joke he hoped for.

Lestrade  let out a huff of laughter before saying, "I'm sure he wouldn't have-"

"Oh he would." Sherlock cut him off and  Lestade's  eyebrow quirked in response, "I may have mentioned that his hostility was more than likely fueled by the fact that his Omega found it easier to fall to her knees for his partner than him rather then my presence."

John was beginning to see what it was that made the consulting detective unpopular amongst  Lestrade's  team.

"Sherlock!"  Lestrade  scolded, "How many times do I have to ask you not to do that?! Soon you'll have trouble getting into these crime scenes if they start complaining to the higher-ups."

"Hardly." was all that Sherlock said, and John was wondering if this man ever learnt his lessons having just been reprimanded for his earlier disrespect.

But it seemed  Lestrade  knew what battles were worth fighting, and did not deem this so instead  just walking closer to Sherlock before saying "Really? Porter?" in a hushed tone.

All he got in a response was a smirk from the detective before he stated that they should probably proceed to the crime scene.

" I can give you two minutes."  Lestrade  stated as they entered the room.

John took a minute to take in the scene in front of him. In the middle of the bare and damp room, was a bundle of shocking pink. 

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her."

There didn't seem to be any real sign of a struggle and if it wasn't for the slight stench  of death that lazily clung to the air and un-natural stillness, John might have believed her to be simply unconscious .

It was different to what he saw at war. There was no blood splatter from hails of bullets or stains and streaks to follow where the solider tried desperately to survive. It seemed almost peaceful. Well, if you took away the scratching in the ground Sherlock  seemed to be touching now.

"Shut up." Sherlock ordered, and for a second John wandered if he had been musing aloud.

"We didn't say anything!"  Lestrade  replied, seeming startled also.

"You were thinking. It's annoying." 

John and  Lestrade  glanced at each other, exchanging a look of surprise before  Lestrade  rolled his eyes in exasperation and John stifled  a giggle.

"That. Is no better." Sherlock snapped, shooting a glare at the pair who put their hands up in surrender before the detective  continued his circle around the body.

The room settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, as comfortable as one can be with a dead body in the room...which is surprisingly comfortable John noted and once again  realised  that he may need the psychiatrist  for more than the PTSD.

John watched as Sherlock's sharp eyes darted uncontrollably from one item to the next in rapid succession: never settling on anything for more than a few seconds before the corners of his lips would  twitch upward and he moved his eyes onward.

It was amazing to watch, really and truly amazing. The Alpha moved in an almost predatory progressing  around the body, hunching down from time to time in order to take a closer look or smell. John found his attention was dragged to his rolling back and the incline and dip of his neck every so often and he couldn't ignore  the shiver that rolled through him. Sherlock Holmes was most definitely a predator.

John noted that Sherlock paused in his movement for a microsecond to flick his eyes up at John and  Lestrade, as if checking they were in fact paying him attention. Show off.

"Got anything?"   Lestrade  asked as the detective straightened up.

"Not much." Sherlock stated nonchalantly before starting to type something into his mobile.

Just  then the ratty Beta from earlier decided to make himself known, speaking from the doorway, "She’s German.‘ Rache ’: it’s German for ‘revenge’. She could be trying to tell us something-"

He didn't get very far into his thought as Sherlock strolled by only to shut the door firmly in the man's face effectively  cutting him off and John laughed out loud at that and noticed as  Lestrade  did too.

"So she's German?" The DI asked skeptically.

Sherlock paused in his pacing, his fingers still brushing over the keys of his phone, sighing out, "Of course she's not. She’s from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night ..." pausing for a small moment to smugly smile at the screen before continuing "before returning home to Cardiff." and pocketing his phone.

"So far, so obvious"

"Sorry-- obvious?" John interjected because he was almost certain none of what he had said had been in anyway obvious!

Lestrade  however, seemed used to being told that what Sherlock believed to be obvious where almost unobtainable for the mind of normal folk such as them. Instead he just asked "What about the message?", which Sherlock ignored having ever heard.

"Doctor Watson, what do you think?"

 "Of the message?" John asked confused. Why would John have a clue about anything to do with a message in German, John didn't even speak German. 

"Of the body. You're a medical man" Ooh, that made more sense. Just as John began to move forward  Lestrade  spoke out,

"Wait, no. We have a whole team right outside."  Lestrade let out exasperatedly.

John hesitated for a second but Sherlock beckoned him forward with a tilting of his head and John started again.

"They won't work with me." Sherlock stated clearly, leading John closer to the remains clearly deciding that Lestrade's argument  was unimportant.

 Now, John wasn't exactly well versed in how Packs worked having never been in one and the fact they all seemed to function in different ways and intensely  private; but he was almost certain Sherlock was inviting a punishment his way.

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here!" Lestrade  all but shouted at the other Alpha in frustration  and John considered leaving once again before tension rose to breaking point like it had before, but John didn't get a chance as Sherlock snapped back a, "Yes! Because you need me."

The two Alpha's seemed locked in each other again and John felt himself curl in slightly to appear smaller, not sure where this was going and dominance fights where far different from those found in war. Those fights were for survival. These, these were for status a n d  John was no fool to get in the middle of those.

It was in John's nature to fight for survival, for those he cared for but dominance? That was far from something he deemed worth y  of losing life or limb for!

However, as quick as the tension built. It broke. 

"Yes, I do."  Lestrade  said tersely  before sighing and  begrudgingly adding "God  help me." 

"Doctor Watson." Sherlock said, turning back to face the solid er , who had straightened  back up before the gaze hit him.

" Hm ?" John hummed looking away from the body he pretended to be looking at clinically, to Sherlock before flicking his gaze to  Lestrade  seeking permission to continue. He knew that things were somewhat...delicate at the moment and John was not risking undermining a Pack Alpha as strong as the DI, even for Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh, do as he says."  Lestrade ordered tetchily, "Help yourself!" he finished and turned to leave the room.

"Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes!" He barked, brushing by the Beta who ducked his head in response.

John shuttered out a breath trying to calm slightly as his body pumped out a mix of hormones at the order. Lestarde's  tone reminding him so clearly of his superiors in the army when they begrudgingly  gave John permission to lead a mission that was laced with danger.

Those orders always warmed John's belly, like he had chosen right so much so his dominants rewarded him with the adrenaline  that came coursing  with their decisions. 

The feeling as he dressed for his missions, his uniform wrapping him up like the arms of an old love. Calling for his team and assembling making promises of danger deep enough the hormones released almost mirrored those of 'space...

"John?" Sherlock questioned softly causing John to jump back into the room, though the feelings still thrummed through him and tingled in his finger tips.

"Eh...huh?" John struggled to get any words out as his brain fogged with memories of home and family and war and John wondered when they had melded into one.

"John, I need you to focus on me." Sherlock said, or at least someone who sounded an awful lot like him said.

 John wasn't too sure because for some reason his eyes had closed and he couldn't figure out how to open them. That, or he just didn't care enough to do so.

"John." the voice said again, this time accompanied by a weight of hands on his shoulders and John felt as his knees began to bend with it.

"No, no John. I want you to stay standing for me, am I clear?" John nodded and tried his hardest to lock his knees but he could feel as his senses continued to be bombarded with the feeling and smells of the subspaces he would get in the army. The ones that made forest fires erupt along his spine, spreading quickly to his limbs. Shocking him with sparks of pleasure and the deep desire to get them to go off again through his Alpha's praise.

"No John. I need you to answer verbally." Sherlock lightly reprimanded  with digging fingers and John whined wanting to chase the sparks.

"Am. I. Clear?" Sherlock repeated.

"Yes, sir." John said, forcing his mouth around the words.

"Good. Very good John." and there they were, John sighed, feeling as they shot up again, bouncing off his vein walls as the whizzed through.

"John, I want you to take a deep breath for me." And John did, welcoming in the scent of the Alpha.

"Good. Now, I want you to open your eyes." and John whined again from his throat, the idea of prying his eyes open seemed akin to punishment in this moment.

"John. I will not repeat myself again. You will open your eyes. Now." Sherlock's sharp tongue bit out and John's eyes flew open to look at the Alpha with an apology reflecting clearly from them.

"Now," the Alpha started, "Take another breath." Keeping his orders short and terse seeing that John seemed inclined to argue otherwise and Sherlock really did not have time for that at the moment.

John did as he was told, the entire time keeping his eyes on the man in front  of him, feeling as the blurred lines of his mind solidified  slightly .

"Another." Sherlock said, and John repeated.

As did Sherlock, ordering John to take breaths in a steady rhythm and John could feel as the remnants  of 'space seemed to clear until John was breathing the rhythm without orders. 

As the final pieces cleared from John's mind he felt as red hot embarrassment flooded to his cheeks  and he felt himself breaking eye contact with the detective  in order to somewhat escapes  the awkwardness of it all.

John hadn't fallen into a space by accident since he was sixteen! Oh God! As if he didn't seem enough like a nonce half of the time around his flat mate .

"John..." the detective said softly and John felt as the embarrassment coiled up and sprang back into his features, this was humiliating.

"Sherlock, " John started, his voice seeming weak and cracking so he coughed before continuing his apology, "I am sorry...I  don't know what happened. Wow, this is bloody horrifying." John laughed softly, still trying his best to avoid the alpha's gaze and John noted Sherlock had yet to let go of his shoulders.

"No need to apologizeJohn. Lestrade can have quite the effect." Sherlock laughed slightly and John joined, daring a quick look at the detective who smiled lightly before stepping back.

Sherlock was right  Lestrade  did have quite the effect, but something in John tugged on the idea that it wasn't just  Lestrade  that had set him off- though he couldn't think of what else could have done it.

Shaking his head, John looked back at the Alpha who had moved back to the body, which, John had completely forgot was in the room! Good job Watson, you feel into a 'space at a crime scene- his psychiatrist  was going to have a field  day with that one. God, he was messed up.

John moved to the opposite  side of the remains and slowly and excruciatingly  took a knee beside it.

"Well?" Sherlock asked as if the last few minutes had never happened. Which, John was thankful for.

" Em , I'm sorry, what am I doing here?" John asked considering Sherlock had really not explained what it was he was waiting for John to do.

"Helping me prove a point." John was almost certain Sherlock Holmes did not need him to prove a point, from what John had seen he was perfectly capable of doing so himself- in a very loud and unyielding  way.

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent." John countered.

"Yes, well...this is more fun." And John couldn't deny it, excluding the most embarrassing  moment of his adult life, this was more fun than anything he had done after the war. Although...he supposed it really shouldn't been on the count of it involving homicide and taking place next the  dead body of a women.

"Fun?" John questioned, in an attempt to seem slightly less like a psycho who notched crime scenes on par with Disneyland, "There's a woman lying dead."

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you’d go deeper." and John snorted at that. At least he didn't seem as psychotic  as Sherlock, so there was that.

Just then,  Lestrade  decided to re-enter the room, seeming to have calmed down following the earlier altercation. In reaction John, placed his other knee down and leaned in to focus his attention of the body in hopes that the Alpha would forget he was even there.

The smell of vomit however quickly assaulted his nose as he did so, so he sat back up.

"Yeah ... Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs." John directed at Sherlock who arched his brow at the Doctor.

"You know what it was. You’ve read the papers."

He did? Oh he did! He had read about it just before Sherlock had come back to get him.

"Wait, she’s one of the suicides? The fourth ...?" John questioned and Sherlock's eyes seemed to twinkle. Yeah, John could definitely  say he wasn't as crazy as Sherlock (though the news did make his skin tingle in excitement).

"Sherlock-- two minutes, I said. You've had more. I need anything you've got."  Lestrade  said breaking into the Alpha and Omegas own conversation.

Sherlock surged to his feet and John, well, John eventually got to his and that's all that mattered.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I’m guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It’s obvious from the size of her suitcase." Sherlock started in a flurry of words, so fast they almost seemed to trip over themselves.

"Suitcase?"  Lestrade  echoed back, in a more bewildered tone. Yeah, what suitcase was Sherlock talking about? John certainly hadn't seen one.

"Suitcase, yes." Sherlock sighed moving on as quickly as he started, "She’s been bonded at least ten years, but not happily. She’s had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was bonded."

"Oh, for God’s sake, if you’re just making this up-!"  Lestrade  said exasperated by Sherlock's apparently random statements.

"Her bonding ring." Sherlock sighed, as if that made it clear in an y way  how he jumped to those conclusion. It didn't. 

"Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewel ry  has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her bonding right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it’s regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It’s not for work; look at her nails. She doesn’t work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she’d never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple. Plus if either of you had bothered to pay close enough attention you would have noted that her bonding bite is almost non-ex iste nt . Hasn't been refreshed in at least 8 years. Passion dies so quickly."

Oh, well, when he explained it like that...it did actually seem simple, yet entirely impossible at the same time.

"That's brilliant." John admired, because it was! 

Sherlock turned to look at him perplexed and John  apologised , "Sorry."

"Cardiff?"  Lestrade  asked and Sherlock returned his attention to him then.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"It's not obvious to me." John stated and watched as Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked between to equally blank faces...they really didn't see it.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." From anybody else John would have been offended , because it probably would have been a jab at his orientation , but Sherlock didn't give a toss if it was his Pack Alpha or Omega  flat  mate, he was saying it because  to him, everyone ' s  brain was far more boring than his own.

 It was refreshing and John liked that about him.

"Her coat: it’s slightly damp." Sherlock began again turning his attention away from them and back toward the body, "She’s been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She’s turned it up against the wind. She’s got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it’s dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can’t have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? " he asked, fishing his phone out of his pocket and holding it up to show them the weather dis p lay . "Cardiff."

"That's fantastic!" John admired and once again the Alpha's eyes  seeked  out his own.

" D'you  know that you do that out loud", Sherlock asked in a hushed tone, in case John was genuinely  unaware of his proclamations .

"Sorry," John  apologised, cheeks some what  flushed , "I'll shut up."

"No," Sherlock let out quickly, "it's...fine." he said seeming to hesitate in his analysis of what John's words were, so 'fine' would have to suffice.

The Alpha kept his gaze on John for a moment or two longer than necessary, like he was wa i ting  for John to say something to reveal his words were only in jest and John tried his best to convey  nothing but sincerity  back.

"Wait,"  Lestrade  interrupted the quiet interrogation , "Why  d'you  keep saying suitcase?" and as soon as those words perpetrated  the air, the Alpha morphed to the detective once more- and John forgotten.

"Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organiser . Find out who Rachel is."

"She was writing 'Rachel' "  Lestrade  questioned, and John had a feeling they had missed something once more that Sherlock had caught.

"No, " Sherlock drawled sarcastically, "she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be. Question is: why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"Can we first answer the question on the suitcase?" the DI asked again, this time a little more gruff, seeming to tier of being behind  Sherlock in his own investigation.

"Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left." Sherlock stated, pointing down to the woman's body, "She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don’t get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night."

"Now where is it?" Sherlock questioned, swiveling  around to glare at the DI, as though he was purposely  hiding it from the detective , "What have you done with it?"

"Watch yourself Sherlock." The DI growled out and John watched as Sherlock's back tensed and for a moment John thought the idiot was going to argue, but he was relieved to see as they quickly relaxed and his neck tipped in apology. 

The DI nodded slightly in acknowledgment before saying, " There wasn't a case."

"Say that again." Sherlock said, but this time his voice was not laced with accusations, but instead tinged with excitement.

"There wasn't a case."  Lestrade  stated in frustration , "There was never any suitcase!"

If John was hoping that that would force the Consulting Detective into explaining what it was going through his mind, he would be sorely disappointed  as he raced out the door and began down the stairs.

"Sherlock there was no case!"  Lestrade  yelled after him, hurrying  to the banister , and John followed slightly slower behind him.

"But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn’t miss them." Sherlock shouted back, slowing slightly to accommodated  the chat but not stopping.

"Right, yeah thanks! And...?" was  Lestrade's  only reply and John had to agree, Sherlock really wasn't explaining any of this.

"It’s murder, all of them. I don’t know how, but they’re not suicides, they’re killings – serial killings." Sherlock said, and John noted that his tone was laced  with an excitement that may just be a little bit too much for the situation they were regarding.

However, John couldn't deny his own mounting excitement at the prospect the Detective was providing.

"We’ve got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There’s always something to look forward to." Okay, that may have been a bit too much, John noted as the surrounding  officers looked at the Alpha in disdain for his tactless words.

"Why are you saying that?"  Lestrade  yelled and John noted the ever growing irritation in the man's voice.

"Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?! Someone else was here, and they took her case.So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car." It appeared that Sherlock no longer cared for explaining his thoughts to the two confused members on the stairs, instead directing his thoughts to himself now.

"She could have checked into a hotel? Left her case there" John suggested and almost wished he hadn't at the look the Alpha shot up to him, "No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She  colour -coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She’d never have left any hotel with her hair still looking ..." and he trailed off, seeming to get lost in himself again.

"Oh." was his next utterance  and John  realsied  that the detective had figured out what it was he was searching for moments again, "Oh!" Yep, definitely found it.

"Sherlock?" John questioned, having still had absolutely no explanation  as to what it was the Detective  kept prattling on about.

"Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake."

"We can't just wait!"  Lestrade  objected over the railings.

"Oh, we're done waiting!" Sherlock exclaimed in excitement before taking off down the stairs again.

"Look at her, really look!" he kept yelling on his decent, "Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends were. Find Rachel!" before disappearing from view .

"Of course, yeah-"  Lestrade  said flippantly to himself at this  point  before calling after the Consulting Detective once more, "WHAT MISTAKE?!" almost assuming he'd get no response  from the wayward man.

However, Sherlock's head reappeared for a single moment to shout  back a single word, "PINK!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it and please feel free to leave comment on how you're finding it, it's always appreciated and fun to read :)
> 
> Erica x


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...It only took me a year and a half to update. Sorry!

Lestrade watched as the Great Sherlock Holmes disappeared once again from sight before letting out a sigh. God if that Alpha was not the most stubborn one he'd ever met! Okay, that's not strictly true. Lestrade had been unfortunate enough to meet some of England's most stubborn Alpha's in his job. However, he was pretty certain he was safe in saying the Holmes Alphas? Well they redefined the word itself.

If he had been even half way sane: he would have stayed as far away from Sherlock Holmes as one could have when he found him that night in London's notorious drug lined alleyways; But no. Lestrade had been reeled in at the sight of the pitiful specimen with the stone grey eyes still tinged with the innocence of a child.

For as much stress as the other man caused him, and believe him it was a lot (Lestrade was almost certain he had only turned grey after meeting Sherlock), it was still that same gleam of childhood trapped behind the glass of his eyes that made Lestrade believe he was worth it.

That, and without Sherlock he was sure that his and Mycroft's meeting would have never incurred. Although, on their bad days sometimes Lestrade questioned if that too would have been its own blessing- but those were on the really bad days.

"Gov!" someone shouted from down below and Lestrade pulled himself out of his own thoughts to get back to the task at hand: Solving the murder. Or at least attempting to- until Sherlock decided to share whatever tidbit of information he was bound to hold from them.

"Be there in two!" he yelled back before taking a deep breath and rubbing his face roughly. This might be the case that kills him!

Just before he got the strength to move he heard the sound of feet shuffling behind him and he was reminded once more that Sherlock had left something, well _someone_ , in his wake.

"John." Lestrade said, turning around to face the Omega Doctor behind him, "You'd probably be best just heading back home. Lord only knows where he's gone to but he's certainly not going to be coming back here."

Lestrade could almost say that he felt sorry for the man as he caught slight glimpse of uncertainty and disappointment flit across his features. Lestrade knew what those emotions felt like having become well acquainted with them. Ah! The joys that are found in the love of a Holmes boy.

 Sherlock Holmes truly was a bastard.

"I could get one of my deputies to drop you back?" Lestrade offered but he watched as the man in front of him steeled, obviously mistaking Lestrades innocent suggestion as a disbelief in his ability to walk home alone.

"No Detective Inspector. I'm quite capable of getting back by myself if you could just point me in the direction of a main street to catch a taxi. But, Thank You." was the response put forth and Lestrade noted the man left no room for argument.

Oh yes, this was certainly one of the few who could be around a Holmes for life and not end it in a homicide.

"Yeah, it's to your right and straight on. There should be a good few there." Lestrade informed and the Omega seemed to drop his defensives slightly seeing that the Alpha wasn't going to push the subject.

"Thanks." John said almost meekly after coming on strongly before, "Appreciate that." and they both knew he was talking more about Lestrade's willingness to let the argument go rather than the directions.

"No worries. Sherlock can get carried away when it comes to 'The Work', as he calls it, but he means nothing by it. That's not to say you don't have every right to rip strips out of him for it when he decides to resurface. Just don't hold your breath for any kind of apology... or even an acknowledgement of any sort of wrong doing from a Holmes."

"A Holmes?” John exclaimed, "There's more of them?" he questioned, voice dripping with disbelief and Lestrade laughed outwardly at that.

"I was beginning to think Sherlock was some sort of lab experiment for a defective Captain America: The Scotland Yard Edition!" he joked and Lestrade was certain a more accurate description had never been given for the man!

"Oh no, there is a brother- but that's a story for a different day." Now it was John turn to laugh.

The two let the mirth hang in the air for a second more before another call for Lestrade broke it.

"I should probably head so." John said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the stairs, "Cheers for letting me into your crime scene" John finished lamely, cringing with the words.

Lestrade groaned, "Yeah, maybe we don't mention that to too many people. Lord knows my superiors in the Yard would have my arse for that" and John laughed again.

"Don't worry. Mum's the word." he said, and left.

* * *

 

Okay, thinking back to the crime scene...perhaps Sherlock shouldn't have left the Doctor behind, the Detective thought.

He was certain that there was probably some abhorrent social rule about leaving your newly found acquaintance and roommate at a crime scene, but Sherlock had undoubtedly deleted it.

After all, up until the introduction of John Watson, it was not a rule to which Sherlock ever needed to apply. Not that Sherlock felt the need to apply many of society’s requirements but... none the less he assumed he would be hearing about it from either Lestrade or Mycroft before the day was out.

Sherlock did have to admit that it was rather regrettable the Doctor had been unable to keep up- it certainly would have halved the amount of time Sherlock would have to spend amongst the rubbish of London but the Omega still believed that he had that insufferable leg injury!

Another non-seneschal flaw in today's world. Sherlock will have that limp gone by sunrise tomorrow because he knew just what the good Doctor needed- Danger.

Something that idiot of a psychiatrist thought had broken the man just because of his orientation! No, John Watson was not _broken_ by war, he missed it.

Sherlock sighed as he felt his finger brush the metal bottom of yet another back alley bin with no trace of the pink suitcase. Perhaps the next road up would prove to be more fruitful...There was quite a well concealed backway to Gino's if Sherlock recalled correctly- which, he did.

It had always been the perfect place to get his fix. Secluded. Rarely a shortage of both dealers and lonesome Omegas and Betas alike. Those had most certainly been darker times and Sherlock found it strange how often he missed them.

However, it does not do well to squander energy on the past when the present proves to be far more interesting.

Sherlock gracefully excited the large bin and dusted himself off before starting his way down the old familiar route.

* * *

 

John was going to kill him. Alpha or no Alpha John was going to rip Sherlock Holmes limb from limb and enjoy every moment of it!

London was just as shitty as it had been when John had left it for the Army and he questioned why he ever thought staying here would be worth it.

It was pissing rain and each of the five taxis John had managed to flag had refused to pick him up! Apparently Alpha drivers couldn't accept Omega fares without their Alpha's either present or having commissioned them. _"Sorry pet, but you'll have to try for a Beta driver. There is a rank off St. Matthew's Road just up there."_ was what one numb-skulled Neanderthal had told him. John could remember the last time his blood had boiled this much. Pet? Why is it all Alpha's and Beta's seemed averse to using John's actual name?

God he was going to throttle Sherlock for leaving him in Brixton!

John stopped for a moment outside of some local Chinese Takeaway, under an awning, for a moment to figure out his next move. Maybe he should stop for food until the rain eases a bit and then go find that bloody Beta rank.

John turned to look at the menu in the window and noticed as the phone in the restaurant began to ring. Deciding that nothing particularly appealed to him at the moment, he decided to move on to the next place and watched as whoever had been calling seemed to make the same decision too, and hung up.

Before John could get much further down the road he noted that the phone box in front began to ring too. Weird, John thought. Looking around quickly John realised that the streets where fairly empty due to the weather- and he couldn't lie, he was intrigued by the seemingly endless ringing coming from the box.

Feeling the familiar tingle of a possible threat John found himself walking into the glass case and picking up the receiver.

"Hello?" John answered, not really expecting what came next.

"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?" John turned his head slightly in search of the camera in question and frowned.

"Who’s this? Who’s speaking?" John asked. The man was an Alpha, John knew that much. A powerful one at that, John noted as well as the hairs on his neck began to rise with the next words.

"Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?"

"Yes. I see it." John answered tersely. He should have just gotten the stupid Chinese food...

"Watch." The man ordered, and John didn't have time to brace himself against the command and found his eyes glued to the camera as it turned away.

Shit.

"There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?" the man asked again and John hummed in the affirmative, watching as that too turned away and again as a third followed suit.

"How are you doing that?" John fumed. Today had already taken a crap turn after Sherlock's little detect and dash earlier and John really wasn't in the mood to be killed in a phone box right now.

"Get into the car, Doctor Watson." The faceless Alpha ordered again and once more John found his muscles tensing in an attempt to fight against it.

"I _would_ make some sort of threat, but I’m sure your situation is quite clear to you." Smug bastard, John thought and relaxed his muscles and allowed them to submit to the command given, walking out to be greeted by a sleek black car appearing next to the path.

Taking a breath John got in.

* * *

 

Sherlock took in the sights around him. Damped, dull brick walls lightly dusted with moss and the overwhelming smell of a home Sherlock on occasion wanted to return to. Mostly on the holidays, Christmas or New Years, when homes are meant to open their doors for you to walk through. He always ensured he allowed himself those days: Gave in to the urge to return to the place where one life tried to end and where he found himself in a new one.

Sherlock shook his head to the side once again and knocked the thoughts from his fore front once more.

Focus Sherlock.

Pink is the key to this. A pink suitcase to be more precise.

A pink suitcase just like the one that seems to be peering from beneath that black bag of rubbish! Got it! Sherlock smiled.

Oh yes. Home, you never did fail to provide me with something, Sherlock thought and set off to retrieve it.

Sherlock's hand pulled the suitcase up and out before placing it down beside him. It really was an offensive item: Bright pink with an embroidered sigil, presumably of their Alpha's crest- it was ghastly.

Sherlock's attention was pulled away from the case with the sound of a spluttering cough which came from the opposite side of the bin.

Sherlock didn't need to take a deep breath to recognise the scent that was carried along the air and Sherlock moved toward it in a flash.

" 'Lock?", came the small voice when he came close enough to it.

"Raz." Sherlock growled and crouched in front of the Omega boy in front of him whose head swung weakly in the direction of Sherlock's voice. "You stupid boy."

Raz whimpered at the Alpha's tone. " 'm s'rry 'Lock", he slurred looking up through lashes and glazed eyes.

"What have I told you about this?! Told all of you!" Sherlock asked frustrated, moving to slip his hands beneath the boy's arms to help him to his feet.

"They're all goin', 'Lock." The boy cried and Sherlock no idea what he meant by that and he certainly was not in a state in which to coherently expand upon it.

"You're coming to 221B. Come on. Stand and lean on me." Sherlock ordered gently and the omega easily obeyed in his state.

The case would have to momentarily wait. Sherlock needed to get both Raz and the suitcase back to 221B and have Dr. John Watson look both over.

* * *

 

John had been fairly sure that he had had enough of today before he had stepped foot in the black car that had pulled up in front of him. He had been certain after spending time in said car with a stuck up Beta named ‘Anthea’ who had obviously thought herself an arrogant Alpha with the way she ignored John’s simple questions like, “Where the hell are we going?”, or replied with a simple smirk.

So one could only imagine the level of I’m-fed-up-with-this-crap, John Hamish Watson reached when he was led into an abandoned warehouse only to come face to face with what looked to be, the world’s most pretentious Alpha!

“Have a seat, John.”

The voice was undoubtedly that of the man on the phone. John could feel how it was laced with an authority that would make most Omegas kneel before thinking and not for the first time, John Watson thanked God that he was not ‘most Omegas’.

“You know I’ve got a phone.” John said, and the Alpha smirked but unlike when Sherlock or Lestrade smiled at John’s blatant disregard for social norms, it did not give John a sense of pride so much as overwhelming anger.

“I mean, very clever and all that. But you could just phone me. On my phone.” John continued, passing by the proffered chair in an obvious challenge to the Alpha’s authority.

Yes, it was a risky move but there was no way John was going to offer that man any more respect than he had shown John, which up until this point had been little to none.

“Yes, well when one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet. Hence this place.” Was the response he got but John noted the slight grind of the man’s teeth at John’s move, though he quickly covered it with a smile.

“The leg must be hurting you. Sit down.” The mysterious Alpha tried again, pushing his dominance through his voice slightly more than before- but John knew it was just a taster of what he truly possessed.

John felt as his legs moved beneath him, moving him toward the chair in front of him but John only allowed himself one step before gritting his teeth and locking his legs.

He had had quite enough of this shit.

“I don’t want to sit down.” John ground out, looking up to glare directly into the eyes of the Alpha in front of him. It was a move that would get even the higher-standing members in society (Read: Alphas) in beaten state, for an Omega it could be fatal.

“You don’t seem very afraid”. _Wrong._ John was terrified, but he was also a soldier and he had faced danger before.

“You don’t seem very frightening.” John replied. In for a penny in for a pound, he thought.

A silence fell for a moment and John felt his breath fill his chest as he held it back. Just because John was willing to lose his life to go toe to toe with Alpha didn’t necessarily mean he wanted it to happen.

But then the Alpha chuckled, and John breathed.

“Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier… Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don’t you think?”

Well if that wasn’t the first thing the Alpha had said since their meeting that John agreed with.

“What is your connection with Sherlock Holmes?” Oh, well John was not really expecting that question.

“Uh. I don’t have one. I barely know him! I met him…yesterday.” Was it really only yesterday? John could have sworn it was far longer.

“Oh, and since yesterday you’ve moved in with him and now you’re solving crimes together? How very quaint. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?” The Alpha asked, his eyes flicking down to John’s unmarked throat and back up again and John felt as his anger flared up once more, surpassing his previous fear of the man.

“Why are you so interested in what Sherlock and I do?”

“I’m simply an interest party _Mr_. Watson. No need to become so…emotional.”

John hated the man. Hated that he had made John feel the closest he had ever felt to a lesser person since he had joined the army all those years ago. Hated that he had stripped him of his title of Doctor that he had fought to get. Hated that he saw him as his dynamic and not his soul.

“Well, I should correct myself. If you were to ask him, he’d probably say arch-enemy. But then again, he does love to be dramatic.”

“Well thank God you’re above all that.” John bit out and the man smirked once more.

“I have a proposal for you Mr. Watson, should you decide to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes.”

John didn’t have a chance to hear the Alpha’s ‘proposal’ before his phone interrupted the man and John moved his hand to retrieve it from his pocket- effectively ignoring the Alpha’s words.

_Baker Street._

_Come at once if convenient- SH_

John started at the screen for a moment- long enough for another message to pop up- which in fairness was not that long. Turns out Sherlock Holmes was not one to wait, who could have guessed that?

_If inconvenient, come anyway. – SH_

John only looked up again when the Alpha coughed and drew John’s attention back to the room.

“Sorry to cut this short….Mr….Random Alpha Who Kidnapped Me, but I do have to go. Have a life to lead and plans to get to- none of which involve this unfortunate meeting.” John said, slipping his mobile back into his pocket and turning his back on the Alpha (another one of those pesky faux-pas, John noted.) before beginning his way back toward the exit.

“Ah yes. When your Alpha calls you must hurry to go.” _Condescending Bastard._ “I’ll see you soon no doubt. Good day Mr. Watson.”

* * *

 

John wasn’t too certain what Sherlock needed him for and the text message he had received in the car of:

_You should probably get your medical kit….also your pistol (yes I know you have one). After our first problem is solved there is a strong possibility of danger. –SH_

He was still none the wiser.

He had to say, what he hadn’t been expecting was to walk into the flat to see Sherlock Holmes lying on the couch cuddled up with an Omega.

John wished that he could say that he hadn’t been winded by the sight, hadn’t felt a pang of jealousy that radiated up his spin and ripped straight through his heart…but he couldn’t.

“John.” Sherlock said, though he made no effort to move from his position. His fingers running up the side of the man in front of him, stilling only when it reached the back of his neck. John saw as the Omega preened, arching into the touch and John couldn’t stop the feeling of sadness that took up space in his stomach.

“Should I come back?” John asked and for the first time since he entered the room, Sherlock looked away from the Omega to look up at him through slanted eyes.

“Don’t be so idiotic John. Come over here.”

“I’d really rather not.” John said, “I can always come back once you’re…done here.”

“John Watson. For a Doctor you seem unusually incapable of seeing an Omega in a drug-induced drop." He paused for a moment, "Perhaps I put too much stock in your abilities. What a shame.” Sherlock scolded and John felt as his head ducked slightly with it.

Wait… Drug induced drop?! John’s head shot back up to reassess the scene in front of him and finally saw the scene for what it was.

“Oh my God Sherlock, what happened to him?” John asked as he quickly walked over to kneel in front of the man next to Sherlock.

“Oh good, you’re over your little bout of jealousy.” John felt his cheeks redden at that, “This is Raz. An old…friend of mine.”

“Raz?” John asked- gently placing his hands on the Omega in front of him, one lifting his lids to check for his pupil dilation while the other reached for his wrist to take his pulse.

“Raz? I’m Dr.Watson, I just want to help you get through this. Could you tell me what you took?”

The Omega, Raz, slurred out a series of noises while his eyes fluttered open and closed in quick succession.

“It was Space.” Sherlock offered and John flicked his eyes up to him and back down to his patient.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure? Did you see him take it?”

Sherlock looked uncomfortable for a moment before tersely replying with “No I did not. But it’s the only drug he ever took.”

John’s movements stilled for a second- taking the man’s pulse momentarily forgotten- wondering how Sherlock knew that. However, he quickly remembered that it was Sherlock Holmes he was dealing with and quickly let it go. His focus then went back to Raz.

“Raz, could you open your eyes for me?” John asked, but the Omegas eyes remained tightly shut.

“Sherlock. I need you to order him.” He informed the Alpha.

“Raz. Open your eyes.” The Alpha ordered, but when the Omegas eyes only simply fluttered in response John huffed and directed his attention to Sherlock.

“Come on Sherlock! Put some Goddamn authority behind it! I could have done that myself! I thought you were an Alpha?” John challenged and noted how quickly the liquid mercury eyes of the Alpha solidified to a cold steel at the undermining of his dominance.

“Now Raziel. Eyes open.” Sherlock ordered though his eyes never left John’s and John was forced to feel the power behind it. As did Raziel it seemed as his eyes flew open with the words.

John broke his eye contact to cast his eyes back to Raz, though he did tip his head ever so slightly to the side in a soft apology for manipulating Sherlock into a response- but it was an issue he could deal with later if needs-be.

“Good Raz! Now I’m going to ask you a few questions and I just need you to give me a nod if I’m correct, is that alright?”

He nodded.

“Great. Keep your eyes and attention on me Raz,” John informed him after noting the man’s eyes beginning to glaze over, “Did you take some Space today?”

Nod.

“Okay, and would you say you took quite a lot?”

Another nod.

“Okay. I’m going to count now and I would like you to nod when I say the number of hits you can remember taking. Do you understand?”

Nod.

“Great. I’ll start:

1

2

3

4

5

6…” Another Nod.

“You remember taking six?”

Nod.

“Raz, you stupid, stupid boy!” Sherlock scolded and the Omega whined and arched his neck in apology.

“Not helping Sherlock.”

“Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

“Probably for the best.”

Though John couldn’t deny the validity Sherlock’s scold. Raz was quite the stupid boy for taking six hits. For most Omegas, one was more than enough to put them under for several hours. Junkies, well they tended to need three to keep them there without experiencing Drop and Raz had doubled that dosage, something John only ever saw in Omegas who wished for death.

“Raz. This is going to be a hard question, but I would like you to answer honestly: Were you trying to end your life?” John asked, and noted the way Sherlock held his breath as they waited for a response.

“N’” was what they got.

“No?” John queried and the Omega nodded once again.

“Then why would you administer six doses to yourself?”

“Di’n’t. Man did.”

John felt his blood run cold at that.

“A man gave you six?”

“Mmm.” Raz hummed in agreement with him, his eyes drooping closed.

“Sherlock…” John said, uncertain of what he wanted the man to say but knowing he wanted him to say something.

“We’ll figure out that puzzle later. First, treat him.” Sherlock said and John nodded.

“Yes, okay.”

He went to his medical bag and took out two vials. One was a mixture of synthetic Alpha hormones that had been designed for Omegas of neglect or trauma who were suffering from Drop in order to mirror the influx of hormones they should have received from their Alpha. It was more concentrated than the natural ones meaning it was more effective than waiting around for an Alpha to slowly reintroduce a balance and it was also less traumatic knowing you had been administered them via infection rather than bite or secretion from whatever Alpha doctor you had been placed in the care of.

The other, a sedative that would allow him to rest while the hormones worked on balancing out.

John filled the syringe up with the sedative first.

“Raz. I’m going to give you a little injection that will help you get a little bit of sleep and when you wake up you’ll be feeling much better.”

The omega nodded, and John took that as his permission to proceed.

“Go for his right arm. He’s right handed so the veins will be easier to find.”

John nodded and pulled his right arm toward him, pushing up the sleeve and finding a vein to push the needle into.

Raz groaned and Sherlock hushed him, rubbing his hand along the Omega’s side again.

“ ‘Lock, ‘M S’rry.”

“Shhh, Raz. Just sleep, we can talk when you wake. I’ll be here.” Sherlock assured gently.

It seemed to be enough for the Omega and he sighed, pushing back into the body around him, before drifting off.

“Well…” John trailed off for a moment, uncertain of what to make of what just occurred, “I certainly wasn’t expecting that when I left to come here.”

“Yes, where was that exactly? It took you long enough to get here.” Sherlock asked.

“That is quite the story and one I am, quite frankly, not willing to share without a cup of tea. So, excuse me.” Sherlock chuckled and John sighed and then groaned as he attempted to get up from his kneeling position without placing too much weight on his leg.

“Would you like a cup?” John asked once he had gotten to his feet.

“Please.”

John nodded and headed toward the kitchen only to be stopped by the sound of Sherlock’s voice,

“Oh and John, thank you for that.”

“No problem” he replied, before continuing through to the kitchen without looking back. Hoping that by doing so the Detective would fail to see how happy his gratitude had made him.


End file.
